Anyone Else But You
by SpyKid18
Summary: Hell hath no fury like a woman who had her cab stolen. When Oliver unwittingly steals Felicity's cab, sparks fly - and not good ones. Reunited some time later by a twist of fate, Oliver tries to win her over, with less than encouraging results. AU OLICITY
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I know...I have three WIPS. I have no time to make another multi-chap. But I just couldn't help myself! I was itching to write an AU Olicity and then I got this idea. So, I hope you like it! Quick note - I made up some Tommy stuff in here, so any departures from the show history are intentional.**

Chapter One

Felicity Smoak hurried down the street, anxiously blotting at the rather large stain at the front of her periwinkle blue dress. She could smell the coffee coming off the stain, a constant reminder that she was incapable of holding a coffee cup upright, a shortcoming that she didn't exactly want to hang around for the close of her first week of work. Especially because she was supposed to make an appearance at a lunch with some of the company's stockholders that afternoon. She shouldn't have stopped for coffee. She should have known that her nerves would get the best of her, and sure enough they did, resulting in a messy stain down the front of her dress and a severe lack of caffeine. Part of her begrudged the last part more.

She'd also decided to stop at one of her favorite coffee places in the city, thinking that she'd have a nice leisurely walk down to the office, which would help silence her quivering nerves. While never sporty, she always believed in the soothing effects of physical exercise, whether it be a walk or simply fidgeting. She was an A-plus fidget-er. But, the prospect of a three or four block walk with her nerves already pulled so tight was too much for her, so she decided on a cab and stepped to the edge of the sidewalk, holding her arm out just like they did in the movies. She saw a cab coming and when the driver nodded she dropped her hand, peeking into her purse momentarily to make sure she hadn't accidentally left her wallet in the coffee shop. All she needed now was to be stuck in a cab without any money.

When she glanced up she was flummoxed to see a tall man walking toward her cab - which had stopped just short of her - and then, when she was certain he'd see that the cab was meant for her, he had the gall to actually open the door and climb in himself. Undaunted, Felicity flew toward the cab and said, "Hey, this cab is mine!"

"I don't think so considering I'm the person in it," the guy said. Blue eyes looked up at her with nearly as much defiance as she felt. They were nice eyes, and she would have taken a breath to admire them if she hadn't been so miffed.

"But, this is my taxi. I hailed it," she argued. Catching the cab driver's gaze in the rearview mirror she said, "Tell him you were pulling over for me!"

"I'm not getting in the middle of this," he returned in a thick accent, holding his hands up.

"I hailed this taxi," she told him firmly. "It's mine."

"I didn't see your hand out or anything," the guy said.

Irritation flaring she all but shrieked, "I hailed the taxi!"

"Look, this isn't the only cab out here. You'll get another," the guy said, reaching forward and taking a hold of the inside handle.

"But-"

He slammed the door in her face and she staggered backwards with an audible scoff, watching the cab pull into traffic and disappear down the road.

"That son of a bitch," she murmured, shaking her head. There were few things in life that made Felicity Smoak positively seeth, but a lack of common decency was one of them. Stealing someone's cab? Well, that was just about one of the least decent things a person could do.

Another cab rode down the street and she easily hailed it, no one jumping in at the last second and snatching it from her. She made sure to keep her hand out the entire time this go, though. She never made the same mistake twice.

* * *

Oliver checked his watch, hoping that traffic wouldn't keep him from getting to Verdant on time. The champagne shipment was supposed to get there at 8:45, and he knew from experience that if he was a minute late the delivery guy would head on straight to his next delivery and leave them literally high and dry for that night. Tommy was supposed to be there to sign off on the shipment, but he'd called fifteen minutes before the shipment was due to arrive and told Oliver he had to be there instead. He'd spouted off some list of excuses, but Oliver stopped listening at the point when he heard Tommy wouldn't be at Verdant, imagining all the money they'd miss out on that night if they couldn't offer bottle service.

Starling City's traffic was predictably heavy right before the bewitching corporate hour of 9:00, and Oliver anxiously watched as the cars inched forward. They came up alongside any alleyway and Oliver said, "Pull off here."

"That won't get you to the address you gave me, sir."

"Yes, it will," Oliver said. He knew the back streets well around Verdant, and while not all of them were exactly legal, they did the trick.

The cab driver hesitated for a moment before pulling off. He showed a normal level of discomfort at making incorrect turns and driving past hoards of drug dealers and prostitutes as they snaked through a rougher area of Starling City, but he held no grievances against Oliver when he handed him a crisp fifty dollar bill for a twenty dollar cab ride.

Still, even with the illegal detour, Oliver was late. It was only a few minutes, and he hoped that the guy happened to wait a bit. That wasn't how they usually played, but who knows, maybe he'd get lucky. He walked into the club and was surprised to see the men already working to bring the cases back into the storage room, Tommy directing them.

"Tommy, what are you doing here?" Oliver said.

His friend glanced toward him and said, "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm telling the guys where to put these cases of champagne. It's the wrong brand, by the way. You're going to have to call and yell at some people. I'd do it, but we both know I hate confrontation."

Oliver smirked. "Yes, you're much too delicate for it. I thought you couldn't make it. That's why I rushed down here. I even stole some girl's cab to make it in time for the shipment."

Tommy snorted. "You stole a cab? That's douchey, man. Even for you."

"I didn't want us to have no champagne tonight," Oliver argued. He did feel a little bad about taking that girl's cab, and she definitely had seemed pissed. But, hey, city life is brutal and sometimes that involves people stealing your cab. She'd live.

"I know. That would have sucked major. Can you imagine all the bitching we would have heard about not having bottles?"

"Alright, that's all of it," the delivery guy said, coming out of the storage room with the large cart he'd rolled all the champagne in with rolling behind him.

"Thanks, man," Tommy said off-handedly, walking behind the bar and pulling a bottle of Jack Daniels from the shelves of liquor. Oliver sat down on one of the bar stools, watching Tommy pour himself a drink.

"You know, you need to stop filching our liquor."

"We both know that's never going to happen," Tommy returned happily, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Besides, what's the point of owning a club if you can't have a free drink once in a while?"

"It's not free. We pay for it."

"Semantics. Anyway, are you going to be at the club tonight? There's someone I want you to meet."

Oliver grinned. "Is this another Tommy Merlyn match-up? That last girl you introduced me to still calls me at least once a day. I've had to start screening my calls."

"I probably should have mentioned the whole mental imbalance thing. But, hey, she was a good lay, right?"

"Sure. But at what cost?"

Tommy shrugged, taking another large gulp of the whiskey. "Well, rest assured, this is not a match-up. My cousin just moved here, and I promised to introduce her to some people."

"Cousin, huh?"

Tommy nodded. "Yes, and you are not allowed to even think about touching her."

Oliver laughed at his friend's uncharacteristic protective showing. There had never been a single girl that Tommy hadn't actively championed him to pursue. "You know, I'm a little offended here."

"I know how we are with women," Tommy answered sensibly. "And we are the worst. Usually I'm proud of that fact, but not when it involves my cousin. She's too pure for the likes of us. So, you keep your hands and thoughts to yourself, understood?"

"I promise, not a single impure thought will pass through my mind," Oliver assured him. Besides, the way Tommy was describing this girl, he was pretty certain there would be no problem keeping his mind clean.

* * *

Felicity hated going out. She hated clubs. She hated bars. She hated any place where it smelled like beer and urine and you had to shout to have any sort of conversation. But, Tommy had invited her, glibly reminding her that a computer wasn't a proper friend, and she grudgingly agreed. It wasn't so much that he was right – because most times her computer was just enough company for her, thank you very much – but she told herself that things would be different in Starling City. She'd make an effort to meet people, to make connections that weren't over an Ethernet or wi-fi, and she knew there was no better person to facilitate that than Tommy Meryln.

Tommy had always been the social one in their family. Sometimes she thought it was a way to compensate for his father's constant lack of attention, or maybe he just really liked people. Either way, he always had a large hoard of friends and a conveyor belt of girlfriends. People gravitated toward him, and while she would never readily admit this, she'd always envied him for it.

So, she was going to put a little effort in and let him help her. Besides, what was one night of socialization? If it really was so awful she could go back tomorrow night to her Netflix account and large red wine stash.

He'd told her to wear appropriate club attire, which she took to mean everything that did not comprise her usual wardrobe. There were a few dresses from college that were purposely left out of her wardrobe rotation, and she laid them on her bed to choose from. She settled on a shorter shift dress covered with gold beads. It had been part of a go-go costume she'd worn for Halloween in undergrad, but she figured that without the tall white boots it would do just fine for a night of forced frivolity.

She kept her hair in its usual high ponytail but ditched the glasses, opting instead for a pair of contacts. She put on a swipe of shimmery lip gloss and then picked up her liquid eyeliner, doing a thick cat eye. Finished, she stepped back and checked her work. Staring back at her was someone who looked like she would willingly spend a perfectly good night at a club wedged between sweaty bodies.

"Well, at least you look the part," she murmured.

Her phone buzzed and she picked it up, groaning when she saw a text from Tommy saying he'd be about forty minutes later. That was another thing about Tommy. He was never on time.

Figuring she had some time to spare, she walked out into her kitchen and pulled out a bottle of red wine. She might as well get a jump start on the evening.

* * *

"Well, I'm glad to see that our business is thriving tonight," Tommy said loudly over the boisterous throng of the young and hip surrounding them inside Verdant.

Oliver nodded, taking a pull from his beer. A girl in a skin-tight emerald green dress walked past him, catching his eye. She gave him a coy smile, her hips moving fluidly as she walked away.

"Damn, that was a hot one," Tommy murmured, clapping a hand down on Oliver's shoulder.

"I know," Oliver said unhappily. Tommy had made him promise to not go on any conquests until he'd met his cousin. He claimed that Oliver would get caught up with his new piece of skirt and completely ignore his cousin. Oliver couldn't deny he had a point.

"When is your cousin getting here again?" Oliver said, neck craned as he tried to see where the green dress had gone off to. Maybe if he kept an informal tab on her he could find her after his best-friend-duty was finished up.

"Ah, there she is," Tommy said.

"Huh?"

Oliver followed Tommy's gaze and nearly dropped his beer. Walking toward him was a shimmering vision in gold. She was undeniably beautiful, and Oliver thought to himself that she didn't seem like the type of person who needed anyone's help to meet other people. His eyes travelled down her long expanse of legs. Yeah, she looked like she did just fine by herself. Something about her was familiar, and he tried to place her as Tommy hugged her and then took a hold of her elbow, bringing her over to Oliver.

"Felicity, I'd like you to meet my partner in business _and_ crime, Oliver Queen."

Her eyes widened briefly before narrowing, her lips pressing into a clearly disapproving frown. It took him a minute, but then he placed her.

"We've met," she said icily. "I'm going to get a drink."

She turned on her heel and stalked off toward the bar, only she went in the wrong direction. Tommy went to yell something after her but then shrugged and said, "She'll figure it out eventually." He turned his attention back squarely on Oliver. "So, she seemed to really hate you. How'd you pull that off so quickly? She only got in town yesterday."

Oliver rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Remember how I told you I stole someone's cab?"

Tommy's snorted. "You stole _her _cab? Oh man, she's going to hate you for life."

"Come on, it's not that bad."

Tommy laughed. "It's pretty bad. You can admit it."

"It's not like I kidnapped her first born or something. I accidentally took her cab."

"I think the word accidentally requires a lack of knowledge as to what you were doing. And, let's be real, you knew what you were doing."

"Whatever. She'll get over it."

"Good luck with that," Tommy said, raising his glass. "Really. I've seen that girl hold a grudge, and she's exceptionally good at it."

"If I am good at anything, it is moving immoveable objects," Oliver said smoothly. With a wink he added, "I did sleep with Janet Queller, remember?"

"Yes, we all know how you deflowered Pastor Queller's daughter," Tommy said, rolling his eyes. "But Felicity is different. Trust me. Looks like I'll have to find her new friends, because you're toast."

A glimmer of gold caught Oliver's attention. Felicity must have caught her misdirection because she was pushing through the crowd, making her way to the bar.

"I'm going to go buy your cousin a drink."

As he walked off he heard Tommy call out, "You're a brave man, Oliver Queen!"

The crowd was thick and populated with female land mines that almost derailed him on his mission. One in particular, with a slinky red dress and loose black curls nearly caught him, but he pressed forward. He finally made it through the crowd and he spotted Felicity casually leaning against the bar. With a deep breath he stepped forward, plastering on his most charming smile.

"Let me get you a drink," he said, sidling next to her.

She held up what looked like a cosmopolitan and told him, "I already have one."

"Well, then let me pay for it."

The bartender returned with change for her and she took it, paying Oliver a lofty glance as she said, "Too late."

Undeterred he said, "Okay, then I'm buying the next one. But I can't in good conscience let you order another one of those." He pointed at the pinkish-red drink. "I think you're the first person to order that since 2004."

"Wow. First you steal my cab and then you criticize my choice of drink. You're currently scoring negative points."

Oliver chuckled. She was positively pissed and looked about one snarky comment from throwing the drink in his face, and he liked it. Not many girls made him laugh. They made him a lot of other things, but laughing was not on that list.

"Okay, can we start over?" he asked. "I think we got off on the wrong foot."

He could see her rearing to argue with him. Her jaw ticked and he was moderately sure if he glanced down her hand would be balled in a fist. But she seemed to decide against any further outburst as she exhaled slowly and returned in a tight – albeit calm – voice, "Okay."

"Okay," he repeated, small grin playing on his mouth. This was progress. "I'm sorry for taking your cab. It was not a nice thing."

"No, it wasn't," she returned crisply.

"So, I'm sorry. I mean, I did have a good reason, but –"

She made a face and shook her head quickly. "Excuse me? There is no good reason to steal someone's cab. Unless you're severely injured. Or in labor. Those are good reasons. But as you seem neither injured or female, you have no good reason to fall back on, buddy."

"Buddy?" he repeated, laughing. "Did you really just call me buddy?"

"Okay, our fresh start is officially over," she said angrily. She went to leave but he grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

"Hey, I'm sorry, okay? Please don't go. Tommy will find out I pissed you off for the second time in one day and dip my hand in warm water again when I'm sleeping."

Despite her irritation, Felicity couldn't help but smirk. "Do you and Tommy live together?"

He nodded. "For two years."

She bit the inside of her cheek. Every bit of her wanted to leave and not have to talk to Oliver Queen again, but the fact that he lived with Tommy led to another undeniable fact that she would be seeing a decent amount of him. Her and Tommy were close, and she couldn't exactly ignore Oliver in his own apartment. Besides, it seemed like Tommy and Oliver were close.

"I have one ground rule," Felicity said after a moment. Oliver nodded for her to continue. "From this moment on, neither of us mentions the cab incident."

He laughed, nodding. "That seems fair."

She paused for a moment and asked, "Have you done the hand in warm water thing to Tommy?"

He didn't know whether or not this was a trick question, but he decided no one could ever fault him for the truth and he nodded. To his surprise she grinned wide and said, "I wish I could have seen that."

* * *

An hour or so later they snagged one of the coveted large corner booths at the edge of the club. Felicity was sipping her second drink bought by her for Oliver. She let him pick the drink for her after he obstinately refused to order her a cosmopolitan, and she was pleased with the pumpkin-basil whiskey sour he brought her back.

"So, where do you work?" Oliver asked. Felicity had just told them it had been her first day at work and she already had to fix the fax machine twice.

"Merlyn Global Group," Felicity said.

"She's in the family business," Tommy filled in. "And my father has neatly shifted all his hopes and dreams for me to her. It's a nice little arrangement."

"I think you're too hard on him," Felicity said, remembering the numerous pictures of Tommy and the family that Malcom Merlyn had on his desk.

"No, I'm just basing an opinion off of years of missed birthdays, graduations, and that one time he legitimately confused me for my brother."

"You and Rob do look alike," Felicity tried.

"Sure, maybe it you squint really hard and downed a handle of vodka," Tommy said. His gaze had drifted off into the crowd and he perked up when he saw something. He hit Oliver arm and said, "Green dress has surfaced again."

Oliver looked at him in confusion. "What?"

He pointed over to a group of girls to the side and Oliver recognized the green dress girl from before. She felt his gaze and glanced back, a satisfied grin spreading on her face as she placed a hand on the curve of her waist and pointedly looked away.

"I believe my presence is requested," he said, standing up. "Felicity, it was a pleasure meeting you. I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other."

"Yes, we will," she returned in a voice that masked just how she felt on that particular topic. "Make sure that one has her shots, now."

He smirked. "Thanks for the advice. I'll see you guys later."

Felicity watched Oliver walk over to the green dress. He touched her arm and she glanced up with a knowing grin. Felicity wouldn't be surprised if he had her out of the club and on her back in less than an hour.

"So, that's your roommate," Felicity said, tearing her eyes away from the mating ritual.

"Yeah. It seemed like you guys were getting along okay. I wasn't so sure after the cab –"

"Ah, no," she interrupted, holding up a hand. When he gave her a confused look she told him, "There is a complete and total moratorium on speaking of that event. It's really for the well being of everyone."

Tommy laughed. "Whatever you say. So, my dad's not being too much of a dick at work, is he?"

She shook her head. "No, he was actually really great today. He invited me to a lunch with some of the company's shareholders. It seemed a bit strange for an IT kid to be there, but everyone was really nice."

"Good," Tommy said. "Because you're too nice to have to deal with his bol shit."

"I can handle it," she assured him. "But I don't think I'll have to. I think…" she trailed off, not knowing whether she should continue.

"What?" he asked. When she didn't say anything he pressed, "What is it?"

"I just think he's different since your mom passed away," she said. It had only been a year, and she didn't know if it was appropriate to bring it up – especially in the middle of a club – but Tommy only shook his head.

"He mentioned you a lot," she told him. "He was telling me about the club here and how you and Oliver built it single-handedly. He's proud of you."

"Yeah, well, being proud of someone is not the same thing as having an actual relationship with them," he said bitterly. "Anyway, I don't want to talk about him. I just wanted to make sure he's treating you okay."

"He is," she assured him.

"Good." He was silent for a moment, studying her face. "You want to go home, don't you?"

She laughed and nodded. "Yeah. I have since about the moment I got in here."

"Alright," he said, scooting out of the booth. "You know, you're lucky you're family. I'm giving up this prime real estate for you right now."

She smirked. "I am more than capable of getting a cab."

"I know. Come on."

They headed out of the club, Felicity's blood pressure decreasing significantly when they stepped out into the cool outdoors. There was a line for cabs and her and Tommy went and stood in the back. They chatted about nothing in particular, passing time as the line moved up steadily.

"I hope you had a little bit of a good time tonight," Tommy said, opening the cab door for him.

"I did," she told him, ducking into the cab. She looked up at him from the seat. "Thank you for taking me out on the town, Tommy."

He smirked. "Anytime. Have a safe trip to your apartment."

He closed the door and the cab driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror, waiting for the address. She told him the address and then leaned her head back against the seat, watching Starling City pass in a blur outside the window.

**A/N: Is this worth continuing?**

**I know Oliver is sort of d****ouche-y in this first part, but it's intentional. He will get better. I promise!**

**Note - I am out of town until Friday, so if I continue this it will likely not get an update until the weekend.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Some big reveals here. AND some trashy TV. Enjoy!**

Chapter Two

Felicity stood in front of the door to Tommy and Oliver's apartment, a bottle of wine wedged under her arm and a six-pack of Summer Shandy in each hand. She glanced down at her full hands and considered the best way to knock on the door. Finally settling on a good kick from the toe of her bright purple flat, she waited impatiently for one of them to answer the door.

It was Oliver who answered, and he immediately took one of the six packs, stepping back for her to walk into the apartment. Tommy sat on the couch and shot her a lazy grin as she walked in.

"You're late," he said by way of greeting. "It started five minutes ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you commenting on me being late because I was getting the liquor that you refused to leave your apartment and get yourself?" Felicity quipped in return, setting the remaining six-pack on the table and pulling the wine out from under her arm.

"You got Summer Shandy?" Tommy said, leaning forward and plucking a beer from the six pack. "I thought I said Fat Tire."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "You're such a beer prima donna. By the way, it's still weird that you guys watch this."

"The Bachelor is fine entertainment," Tommy returned easily. "Hoards of women basically playing the game who-can-give-it-up-the-fastest? This guy is living the dream."

"Please tell me you don't share my cousin's extremely sexist opinion," Felicity told Oliver, handing her wine over to him. He already was equipped with the wine opener, and as he walked into the kitchen to open the bottle he tossed over his shoulder, "I'm just here for Chris Harrison."

Felicity snorted, standing beside him as he unscrewed the cork from the bottle.

"I see you got another red," he noted.

"Is there any other type?"

Oliver grinned. "You just don't strike me as a red girl. Especially not a cabernet."

"And what exactly does a red girl entail?" Felicity asked, opening the cabinet to her right and pulling out a wine glass. She'd been at their apartment so often over the past few weeks that she knew just about where everything was in the kitchen. Although, that might have less to do with her time spent there and more with the fact that she was usually the one to unload the dishwasher, otherwise the dishes piled up in the sink and attracted fruit flies. She glanced back at Oliver to see if he wanted a glass too, and he nodded.

Oliver thought about what she'd asked him for a moment as he handed her the bottle of wine. After a moment he laughed and admitted, "You know, I don't actually know."

"And let that teach you to not judge without a proper foundation for said judgment," Felicity said as she poured him a glass. She handed it over to him and he nodded appreciatively.

"Noted."

"Can you guys stop flirting over there and sit your asses down? You're talking over Chris."

"Tommy gets very touchy during The Bachelor," Oliver whispered with a slight grin. "We'd better sit down."

Oliver and Felicity settled on the couch next to Tommy. Felicity drew her legs up under her, curling into the side of the couch as she sipped on her wine. On the television screen, the new bachelor, Matthew, was on a very romantic horse riding date with a contestant whose name was actually Candy.

"Do girls actually find horse riding romantic?" Tommy asked casually, taking a pull from his beer. "Because it seems pretty unromantic to me."

"I'd like it," Felicity said, resting her head on the back couch cushion. "But I like horses. If you don't like horses, totally different story."

"It wouldn't be my idea of a nice date," Oliver said.

Tommy snorted. "Of course you wouldn't." When Felicity looked confused he filled in with, "Oliver's ex was a huge horse person. The breakup left him a bit wounded."

"I was not wounded."

"Oh really? So, all of that Coldplay wasn't coming from your bedroom?"

Felicity's phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her pocket, smiling softly when she saw the message. She swiped into the phone and typed out a quick response.

"What's that little smile I see there, Felicity? That's your guy smile."

Felicity glanced up from her phone. "I do not have a guy smile."

"Yeah, you do," Tommy said. He turned his attention to Oliver and said, "Every time she's into someone, she gets this goofy smile whenever they text or call her."

"That's not true."

"Don't get all defensive," Tommy told her. "It's a cute thing."

Felicity rolled her eyes, but then her phone buzzed and she felt her mouth curve upwards entirely of its own accord.

"There it is again!"

"I have to agree with Tommy," Oliver said. "It was definitely there. And also, it _is_ pretty cute."

Felicity hit his arm.

"So, who is it?" Tommy asked. "Did you meet someone here already?"

"No," Felicity returned stubbornly. "I didn't meet someone. It's…Nick."

Tommy was mid sip, but put the bottle down at that. "Nick the Prick? I thought you guys finally broke up."

Felicity blinked rapidly. "First of all, please don't call him that – "

"Um, if I remember correctly, _you _called him that," Tommy said.

"And we aren't broken up," she continued. "We were on a break. Which, now, is no longer the case."

"This is not good," Tommy said, shaking his head. "I've told you this before. Relationships never work after the break. That's just a guy's way of saying he wants to sleep around for a little. And then, once he's gotten it out of his system he comes crawling back."

"That's not true. Not for Nick and I. The break ended because we love each other."

"You honestly believe that?" Tommy asked.

"Yes," Felicity said crisply, taking a sip of her wine. "I do."

Tommy shook his head. "Then you're as delusional as the girls on this show."

* * *

"So, what's up with that Nick guy?" Oliver asked later that night after Felicity had left. "You seemed to be really against Felicity dating him again."

"That's because she's dating the King of Douches. The guy is the absolute worse."

"How so?"

"They've been together for years, and he jerks her around. They're always going on breaks, and she vows to not take him back until he comes crawling back."

Oliver was surprised by that. He couldn't imagine Felicity being strung along by some guy. But then he remembered how her face lit up every time she got a text earlier.

"You think she'd get the hint," Oliver murmured.

"For better or definitely worse, she loves the guy. And love, my friend, makes even the most rational Felicity Smoak act utterly irrational. Like, for instance, getting back together with a guy who puts their relationship on hold every few months so he can take his wiener out for a walk."

"She knows that he cheats on her?"

"Oh yeah," Tommy said. "I've gotten her drunk a few times and it's her drunk rant of choice. But she rationalizes it by hanging on the fact they were on a break. So, technically it's not cheating. As you can see, the guy is a major ass hole."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"We should get some chocolate chip ice cream, by the way," Tommy said. "Because when this implodes next she'll be showing up at our door, and the only thing that calms her down is ice cream. I tried using whiskey once in its place, and it took me a week to clean the remnants of that from my bathroom."

Oliver picked up the empty beer bottles from the table and walked them over to the trashcan. He hadn't known Felicity for too long, but he'd already formed a pretty strong opinion of her. She was tenacious and confident and not at all the type of person who would take shit from anyone. Yet, she was completely under the thumb of some ass hole guy who couldn't realize just how good he had it. Did love really make someone that blind?

* * *

A few days later Oliver was shopping at the local grocery store when he spotted Felicity in the cereal aisle, mulling over two boxes of cereal. He walked over to her, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and murmured, "You should definitely go with the Trix. No one should willingly choose Raisin Bran over Trix."

She jumped at his sudden presence and dropped the Trix on the ground. He laughed, leaning forward to scoop the box up off of the floor.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people," she said as he handed her back the box.

"I didn't sneak up on you. I was simply walking down the cereal aisle and I saw you in what looked like a very serious cereal-choice-predicament. I was trying to help."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, your advice was terrible. I happen to like Raisin Bran."

"Are you sure? Because I have it on good authority that no one actually likes Raisin Bran."

"Did the big ol' sun on the front of the box tell you that?" she deadpanned.

"Well, who would know better?"

She couldn't help but grin a bit at that and plucked the box from his hand, putting it back on the display and grabbing a second box of Raisin Bran instead. She put both boxes in her cart and Oliver said, "That physically pains me."

"Why? You're not the one eating it."

"Yes, but you're going to have such boring mornings now."

Felicity rolled her eyes and then took a quick peek into his basket. It looked like a seven year old boy's dream. There was candy, pop tarts, Captain Crunch, and a rather large bag of Cheetos. The only thing that looked out of place was the errant bag of razors.

"That's quite the gastronomic selection you've got there," she noted.

He grinned. "I even kicked it up a notch this time. I went for flaming hot Cheetos."

"That's very adventurous of you."

"Go big or go home, right?"

"Go home sounds about right," Felicity said. "The Raisin Bran officially ended my shopping trip."

He walked with her to the cashier, noting how she carefully looked before she exited an aisle. She stopped for a moment to let an elderly shopper pass. The woman dipped her head gratefully as she passed.

"So, tell me about this Nick guy you're dating," Oliver said.

"I'm sure Tommy's told you enough," Felicity returned. "Let me guess, he told you that Nick is the worst and that I am equally the worst for staying with him?"

Oliver shrugged. "He said some things, yeah. But I want to hear from you."

She pressed her lips together, steering her cart into one of the shorter lines. It was a Saturday, so really any line had them waiting for a good five or ten minutes. Caught behind several carts piled high with groceries, Felicity figured she had nothing better to do than do what he'd asked.

"We met at MIT," she said. "It was freshman year. We were at a party and he showed me how to work the keg."

"Ah, the start of every good college romance," Oliver interjected. "I used the keg move a few times myself."

Felicity shook her head. "It wasn't a move. I asked him for help, and I genuinely needed it. I'd never seen a keg in person before and I definitely never worked one. Anyway, we chatted that night and exchanged phone numbers. We started dating pretty soon after that and we've been together ever since."

Oliver silently added an on-and-off to that last statement, but chose not to correct her. She wanted to paint her relationship as idyllic, and he'd let her have that.

"Okay, so that's how you met. I want to know about him, though. Tell me what he's like."

Felicity considered this for a moment, moving up as the line inched forward. For some reason it felt weird talking about her boyfriend with Oliver in a grocery line. Although, admittedly she couldn't think of any other scenario where it would be normal.

"He's really nice," she finally said. "He's a vegan. Which is sort of annoying when all I want is a burger, but is also sort of cool. His favorite book is _To Kill a Mockingbird."_

"Here's the real question – chocolate or vanilla."

Felicity laughed. "Seriously?"

"The choice says a lot about a person. My sister Thea has chosen boyfriends based on the choice alone."

"Your sister sounds like a treat."

He gave her a look. "Come on, stop dodging the question."

"Fine," she sighed. "Um, swirl."

"Swirl," Oliver said, nodding appreciatively. "That is interesting. Very interesting."

"Alright, so, tell me what it means."

"I don't know," he said evasively. "I have to think about that one."

He didn't. Choosing swirl hinted at a wandering eye. It was the inability to commit to a single flavor.

"What about you? Are you a vanilla or a chocolate?" Felicity asked.

"Vanilla," Oliver said without hesitation. "I'm a traditionalist."

Felicity snorted. "Of course you are."

"What about you? Chocolate or vanilla?"

Felicity shrugged. "Neither, really. But I guess if I had to choose I'd be vanilla, too. I've never liked chocolate ice cream. It doesn't actually taste like chocolate."

"It's like everything grape flavored," Oliver agreed, nodding.

"Exactly!" she said, grinning up at him. "You know, people usually don't agree with me on that."

"Well, you have me now," he returned, knocking his arm against hers.

"Yeah," she said, looking up at him. "I guess I do."

**A/N: I have some FUN things planned for next chapter. Just you wait! And, I have fun things ahead with the boyfriend storyline. If you are still reading - REVIEW!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Felicity didn't like charity events back home, and she didn't like them any better in Starling City. She'd always had a philanthropic flair, but she'd much rather send a nice check than spend an evening with stuffy socialites who spend more of the night talking about their weekly Botox sessions than actual societal problems. She'd actually heard someone remark, upon being asked about the ravages of lung cancer, "Let's not talk about such a morose topic." The evening was a benefit for lung cancer.

"Do I really have to go?" Felicity asked Tommy, stretching her legs out and propping her feet on the coffee table.

"Yes, you really do," Tommy said. "My grandmother specifically requested your presence tonight. And you know what happens if she requests your presence and you don't show."

Felicity frowned. Yes, she knew what happened. Emily Merlyn had the coldest shoulder known to mankind if you crossed her. And that cold shoulder was more than happy to apply to family members if they chose to not do what Emily Merlyn asked.

"I could always fake an illness," Felicity mused. "Project vomiting. No one ever questions that. I mean, it's _projectile vomiting_."

"I don't think people actually projectile vomit," Tommy said. "And, my grandmother would definitely question that. Especially for tonight. This benefit is her baby. She's been working on it for months."

"But I really don't want to go."

"Did you really come here at eight in the morning just to complain about tonight?" Tommy asked. "Because you're infringing on my lounging-in-bed-with-Netflix time."

Felicity smirked. "Anxious for the next _Vampire Diaries_ episode, huh?"

"It was one episode!" he returned loudly, cheeks flushing. "And, for the record, there was a lot of scantily clad women in it."

"Oh, of course," she returned. "And, no, I'm not just here to complain. I left my phone charger here on Tuesday."

"Right," Tommy said, walking over to the kitchen and returning with her charger. "I thought it was Oliver's. He has the same one."

"Where is Oliver, anyway?" Felicity asked.

"Indelicado," Tommy said, hiking a thumb toward Oliver's bedroom door. "I don't blame him, though. That girl from last night." He pressed his fingers to his thumb and kissed them

"Ah, okay."

As if on cue, the door opened and a girl padded out in a dress and heels much too fancy for eight in the morning. Her hair was mussed and eye makeup smudged beneath her eyes in a manner that looked more sexy than messy. Felicity was pretty sure if she left in the same state she'd look like a train wreck, but this girl wore it well.

"Hi…bye," the girl murmured with a sheepish smile as she passed them. Oliver came out a few seconds later, clad only in a pair of boxers. He stopped short when he saw Felicity and stammered, "Felicity, you're here."

"Yes, I am."

"Huh."

She grinned a bit and cooed, "Your girl is beautiful, Hubble."

Oliver stared at her. "Excuse me?"

"It's a _The Way We Were _reference," Tommy interjected wearily. "Be happy you don't get. I wouldn't, either, if she didn't make me watch it every other week growing up."

Oliver shrugged and walked back into his room. When he reemerged a few moments later he'd pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a white tshirt. He went straight to the kitchen, murmuring something about a long night as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"I'd say so," Tommy said.

"So, what are you doing here again?" Oliver asked Felicity, walking back into the rec room with his cup of coffee. Felicity could smell it from where she sat, and she asked, "Is there more coffee in the pot?"

Oliver nodded, handing her his cup. She went to refuse, but he'd already walked back into the kitchen.

"I, uh, left my charger here," she explained, taking a sip. "I also wanted to see how likely it was I could duck out of tonight's charity thing."

"Shit, I forgot about that," Oliver said, sitting next to her on the couch. He glanced at Tommy and his friend shook his head as he sighed, "Not you, too. What do you guys have against these things? It's good food. Free booze. See the bright side, people."

"Tommy does have a point," Oliver told Felicity.

"Damn right I do."

"I hope they have the stuffed mushrooms," Oliver mused. "Those are always really good. Or the beef skewer thingies. Those are good, too."

"I love the beef skewer thingies," Tommy sighed.

"Alright, you guys continue your ode to the _beef thingies_, I need to go," Felicity said, standing up and arching her back slightly as she stretched. "I have errands to run. And now, because of this stupid event, I need to have it all done before dinner."

"What errands take longer than that?" Tommy asked, plopping down into her former spot. "I think you're doing too many errands."

She shook her head with a slight grin. "I'll see you boys tonight."

* * *

While out running errands Felicity reasoned that the night's festivities necessitated a new dress, and she splurged on a curve hugging emerald green gown. She paired it with some gold jewelry that her parents gave her for her college graduation, and then headed out to the Mount Caramel Country Club where the benefit was being held. It was already crawling with people when she got there, and it took her a moment to find Oliver and Tommy. They were talking with a statuesque brunette wearing a short black dress with a plunging back. On anyone else it would look vulgar, but the woman made it look elegant.

Oliver caught her gaze over the woman's shoulder and she gave him a small wave. The woman noticed Oliver's diverted attention and she glanced back. Her eyes travelled down Felicity's dress and as she neared the woman said, "Now that is a _dress_."

"Thank you," Felicity said. "Yours is great, by the way. Not many people can pull off a plunging back without looking like they belong on a corner." The woman's eyes widened slightly, Tommy smirking beside her, and Felicity quickly added, "But you can pull it off. Very well, in fact." Felicity swallowed hard. "I really didn't mean to accidentally offend you."

"A foot in the mouth after five seconds," Tommy noted. "That's a record."

Felicity gave him a look and then held her hand out to the woman. "I'm Felicity. Felicity Smoak."

"I'm Laurel Lance," the woman said, taking her hand and executing a surprisingly firm handshake. Felicity pulled back, impressed.

"So, have you guys seen my sister?" Laurel asked. "She's supposed to be around here somewhere."

"I think she was by the bar," Oliver offered.

Laurel grinned. "Of course she is. Well, I'll see you guys later. It was nice meeting you, Felicity."

She sauntered off toward the bar and Tommy let out a low whistle. He leaned in toward Oliver and said, "Tell me again why neither of us have gone after her?"

"Because she would laugh in our faces?" Oliver said. He glanced toward Felicity and explained, "I grew up with Laurel. She pretty much sees me as asexual."

"She didn't grow up with me," Tommy noted. "Excuse me, friends, I think one Laurel Lance is in need of someone to buy her a drink."

Oliver laughed, shaking his head as he watched Tommy go after Laurel. "That is going to blow up in his face."

"Luckily, it's Tommy, so he'll be over it the second after it happens," Felicity offered.

Oliver grinned. "That is very true."

They fell silent for a moment, and his eyes made quick stock of her dress, hair, and makeup. She curled her hair for the night, making a deep part and letting the curls cascade over her shoulder. She kept her makeup light, save for the crimson red on her lips.

"You look nice tonight," he said.

The compliment felt strange coming from him, and she cleared her throat a bit before saying, "Thank you."

"I like your hair like that. But…" he hesitated before reaching forward and tucking her hair behind her ear. "…that's better. You shouldn't cover your face."

Her stomach was squirming and she could still feel the exact spot where his fingers had brushed her skin when he tucked her hair behind her ear. She cleared her throat again and then glanced around, looking for some distraction, and then she found it.

"I think I spy some beef skewer thingies," she told Oliver.

He nodded, all business, and said, "Well, then lead the way."

* * *

Meanwhile, at the bar, Tommy was doing his best to woo Laurel Lance. It didn't have the best start. She'd shot down his offer to buy her a drink with the reminder that it was an open bar. When he offered to buy her one another time, she'd laughed in his face. But Tommy, if anything, was persistent.

"Tell me," Sara began, sidling up to Tommy at the bar. He had his back against it, and was watching the couples dance, one of them being Laurel and Starling's DA. "What are your intentions with my sister?"

Tommy glanced over at her. "You cut right to the chase."

"I don't believe in formalities," she returned easily. "Besides, formalities are for civilized people, and we both know that doesn't include you."

He laughed. "Fair enough. My intentions are to woo your sister."

Sara snorted. "Good luck with that."

"I am a very persistent man. When I set my mind to something, it usually happens."

Sara reached over and plucked the whiskey from his hand, taking a sip. "That may be true. But I'd put money on my sister before you."

"Well, then tell me," he began, grabbing his whiskey back from her. "How do I woo your sister?"

"Are you serious?"

"Very," he returned, punctuating the statement by raising his whiskey tumbler. "Share your wisdom with me, elder lady Lance."

"Okay. First off, turn off the bol shit. I know it's basically your default setting, but she won't take you seriously."

"I resent that," Tommy scoffed.

"Resent all you want, but this is how it's going to be if you have any chance with my sister. And no cheesy lines. She hates those."

"I don't do cheesy."

Sara snorted. "You just called me elder lady Lance. It doesn't get much more cheesy than that."

"That's not cheesy, it's clever."

"Are you going to argue with me the entire time or actually shut up and listen to my advice?" Sara demanded. "Because I have a lot of other things I could be doing right here."

"Like what? We're all captives here."

That drew a sliver of a smile from Sara, and she paused for a moment before plucking the whiskey back from him and saying, "Fair enough. So, next…"

* * *

"I think I just ate my weight in these beef skewers," Felicity said, her hand resting on her stomach. "I sort of feel bad. I think we've single handedly made the waiters run back to get more."

"I feel good about this," Oliver returned. "I feel like I've eaten more than my fair share of them. Tonight will be counted as a success."

She grinned up at him. "That's how you gage a night? How many beef skewers you've eaten?"

"Not exactly. But I do grade these events on the quality of their food. One time they served nothing but vegetarian options. That one was a solid C-."

"You're a harsh critic. How's tonight going?"

"The verdict is still out, but it's looking good."

The band shifted into _Begin the Beguine_, and Felicity smiled, swaying slightly to the music.

"I love this song. It's an underused standard. So much better than the other stuff."

"What is it?"

"_Begin the_ _Beguine_," she said. "I think it's one of the most romantic songs. I love the melody."

Oliver nodded, glancing toward the dance floor, and then held his hand out to her. She grinned, shaking her head as she murmured, "We don't have to."

"I want to," he said. "I rarely ever dance at these things but it looks like fun. Come on, dance with me."

She hesitated for a moment before taking his hand and following him onto the dance floor. He stepped close to her and put a hand on her back, taking her hand with the other. She slid an arm around his shoulders, assuming the perfect form she'd learned from so many of these events over the years – not to mention a cotillion that she actively tried to block from her memory – and she felt herself fall into a familiar rhythm as they began to move.

Felicity always loved dancing. She wasn't the most coordinated in everyday life, but something about dancing had always clicked with her. The movements came easy to her, the rhythm easy to fall into. Oliver was a decent partner. He didn't step on her toes, and she could feel him actually leading. So often, she'd dance with a guy and they'd hardly move. With Oliver, though, they moved across the dance floor with ease.

"You're good at this," she said, noticing that they were getting a few looks.

"You too," he said. "But let's see how good."

He squeezed her hand and then he threw her out into a spin. She spun back fluidly, their chests pressing together as she laughed breathlessly. His arm had snaked tighter around her waist when she knocked into him, and he kept her close as he murmured, "Not bad."

His warm breath bathed her face and she pulled back slightly as they began to dance again. They were pulling out moves that she only vaguely remembered back from her dance lesson days, but her body remembered, moving fluidly from one move to the next. Even when she was unsure, his steady hands were there to guide her in the right direction. When the end of the song came he sent her into another spin, and when she returned dropped her into a dip. Her entire body thrummed with energy when he pulled her back toward him, their noses almost touching. She hadn't realized how close they'd gotten, but she didn't pull away, instead studying his eyes as they both breathed heavily, oblivious to the gazes from both on and off the dance floor. His eyes darted to her lips, which were parted slightly, her breath now caught in her throat when his hand pressed on her lower back.

The band struck up the next song and the moment was broken. She pulled away from him, reaching up and pushing her hair off her damp shoulders. He tilted his head toward the bar and she nodded, following him. Tommy and Sara were there, engaged in some animated conversation. Tommy interrupted the conversation, though, to tell Felicity and Oliver, "That was some serious Dirty Dancing shit out there. I didn't know you guys could dance like that."

"Your mother will be happy to see all those dance lessons paid off," Sara added with a grin.

"You do realize now, Oliver, that every woman here will want to dance with you." He glanced at Felicity and said, "You unleashed a monster."

Oliver laughed. "I'm going to give all the credit to my dance partner."

"And I'll take said credit," Felicity interjected, her insides still quaking just a bit from before. She saw a few people walk into the country club's courtyard, and the prospect of fresh air seemed better than alcohol. "I'm going to get some fresh air."

She didn't wait for an answer, walking quickly to the door and stepping outside. The courtyard wasn't too crowded – only a few people out by the balcony admiring the grounds – and she happily took a deserted corner. She heard the door open behind her and she glanced back, half expecting to see Oliver. It wasn't him. Instead, some older man walked out and she couldn't decide if the feeling that flooded her chest was relief or disappointment.

Some time later she went back inside. Tommy and Sara were still by the bar, but Oliver was no longer there. A quick scan of the room found him at one of the tables talking with a leggy redhead. She nodded to herself, thinking that in the time she'd spent outside everything seemed to have righted itself.

She walked over to Tommy and said, "Do you think I've put in my face time by now? My couch is calling out to me."

"Considering that my grandmother is on her fifth glass of wine right now, I think you're good."

"Alright, then I am going," she said, leaning in and kissing him quickly on the cheek. "Don't stay out too late, now. I'm sure you have a lot of _Vampire Diaries_ to get through tomorrow."

"By _Vampire Diaries _she means feeding lots of orphaned children," Tommy told Sara.

Felicity headed out, paying Oliver one parting glance as she walked by. The redhead had her hand on his shoulder and was leaning forward as she said something. He looked up at Felicity right when she went to turn her head and she gave him a small wave. She could see him begin to stand, but she was already on her way out of the country club, leaving him and the evening behind.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This chapter is massive guys. Seriously. It's over 5,000 words. So, for all of you wanting a longer chapter - HERE YOU GO.**

Chapter Four

There were few things that Tommy Merlyn was absolutely sure of in life. He knew that Coca Cola tasted infinitely better than Pepsi. Eating an order of El Torro quesadillas after drinking meant he never got a hangover. And recruiting Felicity Smoak to be a part of his team for the annual Starling Prep Beer Olympics was a terrible idea.

It really was a terrible idea. The worst. She could hardly get down more than two beers in a night, but his team's token female moved to San Diego last month, and if they didn't get a girl on the team they'd be disqualified. Having won for the past four years, Tommy didn't want his streak to end because of something as avoidable as a disqualification for improper gender ratio. So, steeling himself for the possibility that he was making a very, very bad decision, he pulled the cousin card and asked Felicity to agree to play.

"Is there really no one else you can ask?" she tried, sitting with him and Oliver in their apartment. She seemed to always be there lately. They'd come to her townhome a few times, but to be honest, it felt weird. "What about Laurel?"

"Laurel is heading up her own team," Oliver said.

"It's full of lawyers," Tommy said unhappily. "A bunch of alcoholics in training. How are we supposed to compete with that?"

"I thought you won this a bunch of times before?" Felicity said.

"Yes, but that's when we had Sandy Bergman. That girl could slam a beer like a frat boy on homecoming. Not to mention Laurel didn't have half her team. It used to just be Starling Prep alums, but people had trouble forming teams this year – people moving away and stuff – so we opened it up."

"There's really no other female you can grab? I mean, really, pick someone off the street. They'd be better than me."

"No, at least we know your deficiency," Tommy said. She knew she should be somewhat offended by that, but she decided to let it go. There'd likely be many more options for her to choose from over the next days when deciding where to incite her ire. "We can work around it."

"We'll put you in the easier events," Oliver explained. "Pair you up with some of the lightweights."

"Exactly," Tommy said, nodding. "We also will be having lessons beforehand."

Felicity stared at her cousin. "Excuse me?"

"It's nothing major, just teaching you the basics."

"Basics being…" Felicity asked leadingly.

"How to play beer pong," Tommy began, listing them off on his fingers. "How to play flip cup-"

"How to chug," Oliver interjected.

"That's a definite," Tommy said, nodding.

"Okay, first of all, I've played beer pong before," Felicity told them. "And flip cup sounds pretty self explanatory."

"It's less to teach you than for us to see just how bad you are at them," Tommy said. When Felicity gave him a look he added, "It's really for your benefit, Felicity. Let us help you."

"Let you help me with the thing I'm only doing because you pulled the cousin card?" she asked drily.

Tommy nodded. "Exactly."

"Fine," she sighed. "But we're doing all these lessons in one day."

"Works for me. How about tomorrow? Oliver and I have some work to do at the club this afternoon." Felicity nodded. "We'll have everything set up for you."

"What the hell do you need to set up?"

The next day, Felicity had her answer. The boys had set up a virtual circuit of drinking games for the lesson. The kitchen table had red Solo cups lined up in the classic beer pong design. They'd moved the coffee table somewhere, and in its place was an old folding table with cups lined up on the edges for what she could only assume was flip cup. And there, on the couch in front of the folding table, was an unopened case of Heineken.

"You guys take this way too seriously," Felicity said, taking off her coat and putting it on the couch next to the beer.

"No such thing," Tommy said, walking out of his bedroom. "I didn't hear a knock, by the way."

"Who needs to knock when you have a key?" Felicity returned, holding up the key that they'd given her a few days prior.

"That's supposed to be for emergencies, you know."

"It is an emergency. I really need to pee."

Tommy laughed. "Alright, go fast. We have a lot of work to do!"

She went into the bathroom and closed the door. It was messier than usual, toiletries left out beside the sink. She used the bathroom, and after as she washed her hands her gaze lingered on the bottle of aftershave resting beside the hand soap. There was no hand towel in the bathroom, and not wanting to use their regular towels – who knows where they'd been – she wiped her hands on her pants, gaze returning to the bottle of aftershave. After a moment of hesitation she reached over and picked up the bottle, unscrewing the top. She lifted the bottle to her nose and immediately recognized the scent. It was Oliver.

She put it back quickly, making sure that it was in somewhat of the same position as it had been before. When she walked out both Oliver and Tommy were waiting for her, sprawled out on the couch with the beer pushed to the far corner. The box was open now, and both of them had a can in their hand. Another unopened one rested on the table, and she asked, "Is that one for me?"

"It sure is. Lesson one – how to chug."

"You guys do realize I have to drive after this, right?"

"We have a big pizza dinner planned after this," Tommy returned easily. "You'll be fine by the time you leave. If not, Oliver or I will serve as your chauffer. Hat and all."

She smirked. "Please tell me you have an actual chauffer hat."

"Let's get back to the task at hand," Tommy said, ignoring her question. "Chugging. It is the most overlooked – and yet most important – skill utilized in the Beer Olympics. One cannot underestimate the power of effective chugging."

"It was the Achilles heel of the Lance team last year," Oliver intoned.

"It one hundred percent was," Tommy agreed. "And so, to have a chance of reclaiming that first place prize – "

"What is the prize?" Felicity interrupted. "Is there a trophy or something?"

"No, there's no trophy," Tommy said irritably.

"Then what's the prize?"

"The glory and honor of being the Beer Olympics champions," Tommy said quickly. "And, you know, a medal. Now, can we please get back to chugging?"

"Fine. I can't chug, by the way. I run out of breath."

"That is because you are chugging incorrectly," Tommy enthused. "The key, is to not actively swallow. You let the beer just slide down your throat and you finish quicker."

Felicity frowned. 'That makes no sense. How do you not swallow?"

"Oliver," Tommy said crisply. "I think it's time for a demonstration. Fresh beer, please."

Oliver handed Tommy a beer and he pulled the tab until the can popped open on top.

"Now, watch and learn."

He brought the beer up to his mouth and then tipped his head back. Felicity watched as he downed the can, his throat barely moving. When he was finished he handed her the empty can with a triumphant grin. Felicity glanced down at it and murmured, "What was it that you were saying about you driving me home?"

"Don't worry, I have a very efficient liver."

"Sure," she muttered.

"Now, it's your turn," Tommy said, grabbing the beer from the table and holding it out to her. She opened the can, the yeasty smell of beer hitting her nose. She always thought it smelled a bit like bread, which made sense considering there was yeast in it. Tommy waited anxiously for her to begin, while Oliver seemed to be more along for the ride. Figuring that the sooner she downed the beer the sooner they could be done and order that pizza, she began to chug.

Or at least she thought she did.

"No, no, you're doing it all wrong," Tommy said immediately, pulling the can from her mouth. "Your _swallowing_."

"I'm drinking something, Tommy. Of course I'm swallowing."

"You just need to relax your throat."

"How?"

Tommy paused for a moment, and then began with "I'm sure there have been other times…in your personal life…that you've done things where you've had to relax your throat. Just do that."

"Oh gross," she said, turning beet red as she caught where he was going.

"I'm just saying-"

"No, don't say anything. You are no longer allowed to say things."

"Why don't we move on to the beer pong?" Oliver suggested, getting up from the couch. "The rest of us can cover her for chugging."

"But chugging is _everything_," Tommy complained. He followed Oliver, though, Felicity behind him as she began to wonder why she was doing this in the first place.

She thought it even more when she completely sucked at beer pong. She didn't even get near the cups. Most of the time she didn't get near the table, completely overshooting and ending up with the ball rolling toward the kitchen. She could see the boys visibly deflating as she demonstrated just how much of a handicap she would be to their team.

And then she surprised everyone – including herself – by having a natural knack for flip cup.

"I don't believe this," Tommy said, watching her go down the row of cups, easily flipping each one on its top. "She's our flip cup ringer. After the other events, _no one _will see this coming."

Oliver grinned. "We might be able to win again this year, after all."

* * *

The Beer Olympics traditionally took place on a Saturday at one of the Harris twins' houses because it had a good backyard and a pool for after the tournament when everyone was wasted and jumping in clad in boxers and bras and panties seemed like a good idea. Felicity had always been a competitive person, and she found herself swept up in the energy of the day. Sure, she thought the entire thing was pretty stupid, but that didn't stop her from wanting to win.

Tommy was already commenting on their future victory. Unfortunately, his audience was not as receptive as he would have liked.

"I don't really care who wins," Sara said with a shrug. "I'm just here for the free beer."

"That goes completely against the spirit of the Beer Olympics," Tommy said. "You're supposed to be invested."

"I am," Sara said, taking a long pull from her bottle of beer. "I am very invested in all the free beer."

Tommy shook his head. "I don't even know what to say to that."

"Tommy at a loss for words, that's a first," Laurel said, joining them. "Are you ready to get your ass kicked?"

"Now here is the sort of trash talking I'm looking for," Tommy said appreciatively. "I mean, it's a sorry cover for the fact that you have a weak team. But, I'll allow it."

Laurel smirked. "We're going to wipe the floor with you guys. Just wait."

Oliver walked over, slinging an arm around Tommy's shoulders. "Monohan said he wants to start. It's opening ceremony time. Let's get the team together."

Tommy gave Laurel one parting competitive glance before walking with Oliver over to the rest of the team. Felicity stood with Marc, Brandon, and Timmy – the remaining three of the team – and Oliver put his hands on her shoulders as he said, "Just remember what we taught you and you'll be fine."

"I'm ready," she said fiercely. "We're going to win this."

He grinned. "You and Tommy have never seemed more related than right now."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," she said, turning toward the polo-clad-guy who had just emerged from the house with an actual megaphone.

"Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the sixth annual Starling Prep Beer Olympics!"

The sound was booming and Felicity winced as she leaned in toward Oliver and said, "Is the megaphone really necessary?"

He nodded. "It's tradition."

"Let's get things rolling with a rundown of our events today," megaphone guy boomed. "We'll be starting out with the classic volume chug. Then, we'll be moving on to beer pong, funnel relay race, Louisville chugger. And we will be closing with the ever-popular-and-ever-brutal…flip cup! Now, teams, head on over to the picnic table for volume chug."

They walked over to the picnic table, and Felicity noticed the rather large buckets filled nearly to the brim with beer. It looked like chugging would be up first.

"How much is in each of those?" Felicity asked Oliver.

"Six cans. One for each team member."

The teams gathered around their individual buckets and megaphone guy quickly went through the rules. It was pretty basic. Everyone had to chug as much as they could from the bucket. The team who finished with the fastest time won. Points were taken off for excessive amounts of beer spilled. Tommy gave her a knowing look at that part, and sent him a death glare.

"Alright, ready…set…CHUG!"

Tommy started the team off, picking up the hulking bucket and chugging with gusto, beer splashing on his shirt and rolling down the sides of his mouth. She laughed at him, until it was her turn, and she realized just how hard it was to drink from a bucket. It was nearly impossible to get it all into your mouth, and then if you tipped the bucket too much it went up your nose. She did the best she could, and then handed the bucket over to Oliver. Thankfully, the rest of the team finished off the beer bucket. They finished at a respectable second, although Tommy wasn't happy, namely because it was Laurel Lance smiling at him pointedly, empty beer bucket held above her head.

Next, it was on to beer pong, and as only two team members needed to compete, she rightfully sat this round out. She'd been awful sober, and now with her head buzzing like a bumble bee, she doubted she could even throw the small ping pong ball straight. She leaned heavily against the fence, watching Oliver and Tommy go to bat for their team. A tall brunette settled against the fence beside her and casually said, "So, you're the cousin."

She glanced up at him. "Yes, I am. And who are you?"

He grinned. "Evan Roberts. '05 graduating class."

She snorted. "Do you always give your graduating class when you introduce yourself?"

He laughed, running his fingers through his hair. It was nice hair. Wavy and just a little long on the top.

"No, just a force of habit here. People are always wondering when you graduated."

"Ah, I see."

There was a loud cheer from the rest of her teammates and Felicity's attention snapped to the beer pong table. Tommy and Oliver were high fiving and she told her new friend, "You're distracting me."

"I'm sorry," he said with a grin. "By all means, watch the game. Oliver and Tommy are pretty phenomenal. They're the best ones here."

"Don't tell them that. I'll never hear the end of it."

"I won't," he promised. "You know, you never did tell me your name."

"Felicity," she returned promptly. "Felicity Smoak."

"Well, Felicity Smoak, I wish you nothing but good luck going forward in this competition."

"You too, Evan Roberts."

Felicity watched him walk off toward his team members and then turned her attention back to the game. It only took a second before someone took Evan's spot beside her. She glanced over and found herself face-to-face with Sara Lance.

"Be careful with that one," she said, nodding toward where Evan had walked off to. "He has wandering hands."

"We were just talking."

"Sure. He's always just talking with girls."

Oliver executed a perfect throw for the game winning point and her team cheered loudly while Sara clapped appreciatively. When Laurel glared at her Sara threw up her hands and said, "It was a good throw."

"Loyalty, Sara. Look it up in a dictionary."

Oliver and Tommy returned to their team, arms held triumphantly over their heads as Tommy bellowed, "That's how you play a game of pong!"

He walked over to Sara and Felicity and asked if they were impressed, directing the question more to Sara than Felicity.

"I don't know. It looked to me like Oliver was carrying you guys that round."

"Ouch," Tommy said, covering his chest with his hands dramatically. "You wound me, Lance."

Felicity didn't pay much attention to the other games of beer pong, joking around with her team, instead. A bottle of Jack Daniels appeared at some point and they were passing it around, becoming increasingly buzzed as the whiskey mixed with the copious amounts of beer they'd already consumed. Felicity began to feel like her head wasn't attached to her head, but in a good way. She felt weightless, like if she took a running leap she'd find herself up in the clouds.

The beer pong game ended, the winning teams getting their respective points, and then it was time for the funnel race. Unbeknownst to Felicity, there was supposed to be someone at the other end of the relay who served as a body shot. But, arguing that it was a sexist convention, the female participants nixed that part of the race and instead put an Irish car bomb at the end.

"Make sure to drink it fast," Oliver advised her, standing with her at the start line. It was Tommy and her for this event, as it had to be a female and a male. "Otherwise the Baileys curdles."

Felicity's stomach churned. "Please do not say the word curdle."

Oliver laughed. Across the backyard megaphone guy announced the beginning of the race, and then switched to a whistle to officially kick it off. Felicity watched Tommy get down on one knee, one of the guys holding a funnel above him and pouring beer into the top.

"Drink Tommy!" Felicity yelled, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Driiiinnnkkkk!"

Tommy finished just behind Laurel and he ran toward Felicity, arms flailing wildly in an attempt to go faster. Felicity went down into a soft lunge, ready to launch off the ground the moment he tagged her. Just as Tommy neared her his toe caught a rock embedded in the ground and he tripped, on the way down to the ground yelling, "No!"

Miraculously, he managed to tap the edge of her shoe, and she was off running toward the bomb station. She could hear her team cheering her on behind, and she ran with everything she had until she reached the station and then she dropped the shot of Baileys into the Guinness and remembering Oliver's advice earlier, took it down as quickly as she could. Finished, she slammed the beer stein down on the table and ran as fast as she could back to her team. She felt like she couldn't breath when she finally reached them, her sides hurting and head spinning. Tommy grabbed her around the waist and picked her up, spinning her around. It wasn't until she was back on the ground, and her eyes found center again, that she realized she'd gotten back first.

"Yeah! That's what I'm talking about!" Tommy yelled happily.

She sat out the Louisville Chugger, taking a seat on the soft grass as she watched team members drink out of the plastic bat, spin around ten times, and then attempt to hit the aerial empty beer can. No one hit the beer can, and it was the funniest thing she'd ever seen. She was on her side laughing, the grass against her cheek, and then someone was pulling her up, saying, "Time to shine, Smoak. It's flip cup time."

Flip cup was a disaster. Any talent she had while sober was completely eradicated by all the alcohol, but somehow they still came in second. One of their teammates ended up being her opposite – awful sober but amazing drunk – and they happily took their runner-up status for the round. The festivities over the afternoon, the teams meandered back to the patio for the closing ceremonies. Megaphone guy took his rightful place in front of the crowd and drummed up the anticipation as he recapped the events.

"And now…the winner of the sixth annual Starling Prep Beer Olympics is…drumroll please…" everyone did their own version of a drumroll, resulting in loud yelling rather than actual drum rolling, "…your winner is Team Merlyn!"

And at that moment, as he vomited in a set of bushes, Tommy Merlyn won his fifth Beer Olympics.

* * *

The afternoon's competitive drinking events devolved into a group of people drunkenly yelling at each other inside the Harris twin's house, not because anyone was angry but because yelling had become the resident inside voice.

"Fireball shots!" Tommy yelled, the tacky gold medal for first place hanging around his neck. He walked around making people kiss it like the Godfather's ring. "Everyone gather! Fireball!"

"Dude, there's not enough in the bottle for everyone," one of the Team Lance people shouted.

"Well, then get another bottle. Obviously."

Miraculously, the Harris twin reached under the sink and pulled out another bottle, much to everyone's excitement. It was up to the most sober person to pour the shots, and everyone unanimously agreed that that person was Felicity. She sloppily poured the shots, getting just about as much liquor on the counter as in the shot glasses.

"To another year of Beer Olympics!" Tommy said, raising his shot glass high and spilling half the Fireball on the floor in the process. Everyone shouted back roughly the same thing, save for the one person who for some reason yelled, "To Paul Revere!"

The liquor burned on its way down and Felicity coughed, slapping her chest with the palm of her hand as she willed the burning to go away. When it did she smiled happily to herself, looking around for someone familiar to talk with.

Evan watched her from the edge of the room, slowly taking a sip of his drink. Oliver stood beside him, and Even leaned in as he murmured, "I'm so hitting that tonight."

Oliver had been watching Tommy attempt to get his arm around Sara Lance, and looked at Evan in confusion. "What?"

"That Felicity girl. Tommy's cousin? She's hot, isn't she?"

Oliver bristled. "She has a boyfriend."

"Is it you?" Evan asked casually.

"No, of course not," Oliver said.

"Then it doesn't matter," Evan returned with a wolfish grin. "If you'll excuse me. I have someone I need to talk to."

Oliver watched him go off toward Felicity, his jaw tensing. But it wasn't his business. Felicity was a big girl. She could take care of herself. It wasn't his place to interfere. Yet.

* * *

Tommy walked out onto the back porch, eyes landing on Sara Lance sitting by herself on one of the lawn chairs. He wondered where she'd gone. The crowd from the kitchen had dissipated after another round of shots, and then he noticed a certain Lance sister was absent from the festivities.

He pulled another lawn chair beside her and sat down clumsily. She glanced over at him and murmured, "Of course it's you."

"Why are you out here?" he asked.

"It was too much togetherness for me," she said. "It was ruining my beer."

"I hear that," he said, clinking his beer against hers.

"Really?" she asked with a small grin. "You seemed pretty in your element in there with all the togetherness."

"Yeah, well, anything gets old after sometimes. You know…after…things."

Sara smirked. "You're drunk."

"I resent that. I hold my liquor wonderfully."

"I never said you didn't," Sara returned. "Although that tumble you took during the funnel race does sort of work against you."

"You cannot blame me for an uneven surface."

Sara snorted. "Fair enough."

"So, you think Laurel was impressed by my winning?" Tommy asked, stretching his legs out in front of him and settling further back into the chair.

"I think she wanted to kick your ass."

Tommy grinned. "What about you? Were you impressed?"

Sara hesitated for a moment and then clinked her beer against his. "Sure, Tommy."

* * *

Felicity didn't know how it happened. They were talking and then he was saying it was loud, and suddenly they were in a corner, in a room with a closed door, and he was running a hand up her leg. He was murmuring something, but she couldn't understand him, her mind too muddled and squishy. All she could catch were sounds, and then his hand was still on her leg.

"Stop," she mumbled, pushing his hand off of her.

"Come on, we're just having fun," he said, grinning down at her. He pressed himself closer, his hips pressing against hers. "You're having fun, right?"

"No, stop," she said, trying to push him away but he only edged closer. He dipped his head to hers and brushed his mouth against her cheek.

"Just relax," he murmured against her skin. "We're having a good time."

She wasn't, in fact, having a good time and she felt an uneasiness flood her chest when she stared at that closed door behind them and how it was very possible that no one knew where they were, and no one cared. She wanted to get out of the room – needed to – but her limbs didn't seem to remember how to work. His hand went higher, and she tried to remember anything she'd learned from those self defense classes her mom had forced her to take when she first lived by herself. She remembered something vaguely, but not enough to actually use. But then she remembered something else, a scene from one of her favorite movies, _Miss Congeniality._

_When all else fails…just remember to S.I.N.G._

She turned her body and drove the sharp edge of her elbow up under his ribcage . She could hear him exhale sharply, and he pulled back just enough for her to slam her heel down onto the top of his foot. In quick succession she thrust her palm into his nose and delivered a quick knee-hit to his groin. He stumbled back, pain twisting his features as he spat out, "What the fuck?"

His nose was bleeding and he looked just about as pissed off as she'd seen someone. Quickly she tore from the room, glancing over her shoulder to see him stalking after her, and she ran directly into one Oliver Queen. His hands slid around the curve of her shoulders, and he took in her mussed hair and how her eyes were watery.

"Felicity, what – "

It was then that Evan walked out behind her with a slight limp and bloody nose. Before Felicity knew what happened Oliver had Evan up against a wall, his arm crushing Evan's windpipe as he demanded, "What did you do to her? You tell me! What the hell did you do?"

She knew she should stop him, but suddenly she felt her stomach churn, and she was running toward the bathroom, a hand clamped over her mouth. She tried to shut the door behind her, but it was still half open when she kneeled hastily in front of the toilet, feeling as if her entire body was dying.

Behind her she could hear Tommy getting involved, and him yelling, "What did he do? He was on my cousin? You son of a bitch!"

Felicity shakily reached out toward the door and pulled it closed. She scooted herself over to the wall and leaned her head against it, closing her eyes. The spinning in her head was slowing down, and she was beginning to feel like a human being again.

She didn't' know how long she was in there on the bathroom floor, but then the door opened and Oliver crouched in front of her, Tommy behind him.

"Are you okay?" Oliver asked.

"I'm fine," she said. "I'm sorry that I caused so much trouble."

"Don't you apologize for that piece of shit," Tommy bit out. "I should have been watching out for you."

"It's okay. I'm fine, really," she said. "It wasn't that bad. I handled it."

An unexpected grin spread of Tommy's face. "Yeah, I saw what you did to his nose."

"All I did was sing," Felicity said, beginning to stand. Oliver took a hold of her arm and helped her.

"All you did was sing? I don't get it." Tommy said.

"Wait, that's from _Ms. Congeniality_, isn't it?" Oliver said.

"You got it," Felicity said, trying to give him a thumbs up, but raising the wrong finger.

"How the hell did you know that?" Tommy asked, stepping aside as Felicity and Oliver slowly walked out of the bathroom.

"I have a sister."

"Oh, yes, the delightful Thea," Tommy said, following them. "Sometimes I forget about her."

* * *

The three of them took a cab back to Oliver and Tommy's apartment, and she spent the night on their couch. She couldn't sleep, though, so she spent most of the night watching E! shows on mute. It was the rare channel where facial expressions sufficed.

Around ten Oliver walked out of his bedroom and stopped short when he saw the television was on. He walked over and peered over the couch, smiling sheepishly when Felicity was there looking up at him.

"Hey there, I was just getting some water."

"You're not bothering me," she said.

He went over to the kitchen and poured some tap water into a tall glass. He walked back to where Felicity was and said, "You know, you don't have to mute it. I'm up and Tommy can sleep through just about anything."

"I like it on mute. I get to guess at what's happening."

He laughed, and sat on the edge of the couch, lifting her feet and putting them on his lap.

"So, what's happening now?" he asked, gesturing toward the television.

"Well, Kim definitely just told Kris that her and Kanye are going to open a fashion line called Directionless."

"Directionless, huh?"

"It's ironic, because all of their names are directions now. Kanye West. Kim West. North West."

"That is just genius," Oliver said with feigned admiration. "I think you are dead on with your storyline guessing."

"I know."

They settled into a comfortable silence, her watching the action on the screen and him pretending to watch, but actually spending more time watching her. He just kept thinking back to how she looked when she left that room, Evan behind her.

"Please stop," Felicity murmured.

"Stop what?"

"Looking at me like I'm a victim," Felicity said. "I'm fine."

"I should have known he would try something. He said he was interested, but I thought he was harmless."

"He was harmless," she said. "I took him out and I have zero upper body strength."

"He could have hurt you," Oliver held.

"Yes, he could have," Felicity relented. She remembered how strong he seemed in the moment and how for just a moment, she'd thought of what would have happened if she hadn't remembered how to defend herself. "But he didn't. He didn't, Oliver."

His hand curled around her ankle and she wiggled her foot, making him smile slightly.

"Well, you should try to get some sleep," Oliver said. "You have a big day ahead of you tomorrow."

"I do?" she asked, watching him stand up.

"Your first Beer Olympics hangover. It's a bitch."

She frowned. "I didn't think of that."

"I'll see you on the other side. I'll have coffee and hash browns," he said, pulling the blanket up to her shoulders. He hovered above her for a moment before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Good night, Felicity."

She was too stunned to respond, and it was only when he'd walked back to his bedroom, the door shutting with a soft click, that she murmured, "Good night, Oliver."

**A/N: So much happened here. I surprised myself, actually. So...probably not going to be another chapter for a few days. Think later in the week. You will meet the boyfriend. And things will happen.**

**Reviews, please!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you so much for all of your lovely feedback! I loved reading each and every ****review! Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

Chapter Five

Felicity sat in the center of the couch, settled low against the cushions with her feet on the coffee table and a large bowl of buttery popcorn in her lap. Tommy and Oliver were on either side of her, idly drinking beer along with the occasional handful of popcorn. They were watching The Prince & Me, a nondescript romantic comedy from the early 2000s that Felicity had brought over. While both men had initially put up resistance to watching what they deemed chick flicks, they found themselves becoming remarkably invested in the storyline.

They were at the point of the movie where the prince proposes to Julia Stiles, and they watched as Julie Stiles breathlessly says yes and the pair kisses.

"That's ridiculous," Tommy said, gesturing toward the screen with his bottle of beer. "They've known each other for five minutes."

"It's romantic," Felicity argued lightly. "And it's been at least three months."

"Would you accept a marriage proposal after three months?" Tommy asked pointedly.

Felicity considered this for a moment and then said, "If it was a prince directly in line for the throne, yes I would."

Oliver laughed. "Really?"

Felicity nodded. "I think I would make a phenomenal Queen. Plus, a tiara really suits the shape of my head."

"That's actually true," Tommy added. "She wore one at prom. It was a show stopper."

Felicity nodded in agreement, popping a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth.

"I still think this is a little rushed," Tommy held. "Speaking as your caring and protective cousin, I would not want you marrying a guy you knew for a few months, even if he was in line for the throne."

"Not to mention you're giving up your acceptance to John Hopkins," Oliver added, referring to the prior scene in the movie. "It seems like you're really changing yourself and your priorities for this prince."

"Oliver brings up an excellent point," Tommy chimed in.

Felicity glanced between them and then shook her head, leaning forward to pluck her glass of wine from the table. She took a sip and then said, "You guys are taking this movie way too seriously."

Her phone buzzed against her leg and she picked it up, glancing at the screen. It was a text from Nick and she swiped into the phone, sending a quick reply. Tommy was watching her and casually asked, "When's he coming in tomorrow?"

"It was supposed to in the afternoon. I was going to take him to that pumpkin patch right outside of town. But now he's not getting here until dinnertime."

"You were going to take him to a pumpkin patch?" Tommy asked, unable to hide the laughter from his voice.

"We like seasonal things," Felicity returned. "Besides, who doesn't like a good pumpkin patch?"

"A lot of people," Oliver said. She gave him a look and he added, "I, of course, have a hearty appreciation for them like you. But not everyone is as cultured as us."

"Nice save," Tommy said, snickering.

"I don't understand your aversion to fun," Felicity told Tommy. "Because that is exactly what seasonal activities are. I mean, haunted houses. Friendsgiving. Pumpkin carving! They are the definition of fun."

"I think your definition needs some refining."

Felicity shook her head, returning her attention to the television. Julia Stiles was just waking up, and her assistant came into the room to read her the schedule for the day. Felicity rolled her head to the side, resting it against the couch cushion.

"Being a princess looks like a lot of work," she said. "I don't know if I could handle being read my schedule every morning before I even get out of bed. You know how drowsy I am when I first wake up."

Tommy leaned forward, putting his empty beer bottle on the table, and quipped, "Well, then it's a good thing you're a commoner."

* * *

The next day Felicity rushed home from work to prepare for Nick staying the weekend. She'd been planning on taking the day off to spend with him, but when he told her the flight was delayed she'd come in anyway. Mr. Merlyn, though, noticing that she seemed distant, told her to take the afternoon off. She was grateful because there was a lot to do before Nick arrived. Per usual, she'd put off cleaning her apartment, and just like all the other times she procrastinated it ended up being a larger project than she anticipated.

Weeks of haphazardly cooking meals for herself left her kitchen in a complete disarray, and her rec room wasn't must better. By the time she finished those two rooms, all she had time for before rushing to the restaurant was quickly changing her sheets. She paid her room a quick glance before she left – thinking that it wasn't great but it didn't look awful, either. Besides, Nick knew her well enough to recognize that he was lucky for the minimal cleaning she'd done.

The restaurant was crowded when she got there, and she glanced around, trying to see if Nick was anywhere. After not seeing him, she walked over to the hostess and told her the name on the reservation she'd made that day prior.

The restaurant was one of those industrial looking places with a high ceiling and visible piping. There was a smattering of high top tables for smaller parties against one wall and larger tables spread out throughout the rest of the room. Surprisingly, there were no booths, which Felicity didn't mind. She hated booths, not liking how she had to scoot in and out. Her skirts always snagged on something and she'd be stuck in the booth, trying to discern where she was stuck. She noticed a bar set at the back of the restaurant and her eyes lingered on the rows of liquor bottles as the hostess led her to the table.

"Is this okay?" the hostess said, stopping at a high top a few feet from the bar.

"It's great. Thanks."

The hostess nodded. "I'll send your other party back here when he arrives."

"Thank you."

Felicity settled on one of the high stools, facing the bar. She checked her watching, hoping that Nick wasn't too far off. This was definitely a place where they'd lose the table if he was too late. When she glanced up she was surprised to find Oliver looking at her from the bar. He waved and walked over, smile pulling at his mouth.

"Are you stalking me?" Felicity asked lightly. "Because if you are, you're doing a really bad job."

He laughed. "No, I'm meeting someone for a drink. Is Nick here yet?"

"No, his flight must have been delayed or something," Felicity said. She laid her forearms on the table and leaned forward as she conspiringly said, "So, tell me about this person you're meeting for a drink. It's a woman, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Oliver said smoothly. "And that is the end of your line of questioning."

"That's not how it works," she told him with a goading grin. "What's her name? Where'd you meet her? Come on, give me some details."

Oliver shook his head slightly. "You're worse than Tommy."

"Don't dodge the question."

"Her name is Helena," he relented. "I met her when Tommy and I were out last night."

This surprised her and she asked, "So, is this a date?"

He thought about that for a moment and then said, "Yeah, I guess."

"I didn't think you went on dates."

"Who told you that?" he asked, sounding somewhat affronted.

"All my interactions with you for the past few months," she returned. "And, you know, Tommy."

He shook his head. "I date."

"Okay," she said slowly. She was ready to change the subject, but apparently he wasn't finished.

"Just because you haven't seen me date in the short time you've known me doesn't mean I don't. I do a lot of things you haven't personally seen yourself. You've never seen me brush my teeth. Does that mean I never do it?"

"Okay," she said, laying a hand on his arm. "You date. I get it. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset," he said in an unconvincing voice. She curled her hand around his arm and gave it a squeeze.

"I believe that you date. And brush your teeth."

He smiled slightly, covering her hand with his own. A waitress came over and Oliver stepped back, giving her room. She glanced over at Oliver, and then Felicity, and said, "Is this your other party?"

"No," Felicity said, as Oliver said much of the same. "I'm still waiting for him."

"Okay, can I get you a drink while you wait?"

"A glass of pinot noir, please," Felicity said. The waitress nodded, walking off. Oliver stepped forward again.

"You and Nick should go to Verdant after dinner. Tommy's there, and he'll comp your drinks."

She nodded. "I'll definitely run that past Nick." She saw a tall brunette in a clingy black dress walk to the bar. "I think your date might be here."

Oliver glanced back. "That's her."

"You better go over there. You don't want to keep her waiting."

"No, I don't. Enjoy your dinner. I'll see you sometime this weekend?"

"Yeah. You can meet Nick."

He nodded. "I look forward to it. Bye, Felicity."

"Bye, Oliver."

He walked back to the bar and she purposely averted her eyes, inwardly telling herself that it was not okay to proceed to watch his entire date while she waited for Nick. The waitress returned with her wine and she happily took a sip. At least she now had something to keep her company.

One glass of wine later Nick arrived. He rushed to the table, spouting some apology as she stood up and slipped her arms around his waist. Her head was buzzing just a bit from the wine and she kissed him on the mouth, staying there perhaps a moment too long for public.

"That was quite a hello," Nick said, pulling away with a slight smile.

"I've missed you," she said, sitting down. He followed suit across from her. "Was your plane delayed?"

"Yeah, we left late. I tried to call you, but I couldn't get through."

"Maybe the service was weird in the airport," she said, reaching forward and taking his hand. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. You're here now."

He slipped his hand from hers, picking up his water and taking a sip. She folded her hands in her lap, waiting for him to say something. Instead he picked up his menu and began to look through the pages. Felicity did the same, all the while glancing over the menu at him. He looked different. It took her a minute to place the change.

"Your hair is longer," she noted.

"Oh yeah," he said, glancing up at her. "I wear it longer now."

She nodded, returning her attention to her menu. For all the years she'd known him, he'd always worn his hair close cropped. He hated fuss, and when she looked at his hair now she could see the slightest hint of product beneath the lights.

"It looks nice," she said. He looked up at her with raised eye brows and she clarified, "Your hair. It looks nice like that."

"Thanks."

She continued to look at him, and slowly she began to notice other changes. The trendy watch on his wrist. How clean and trimmed his nails were.

"I think I'm going with the espresso rubbed filet," he said, breaking her from the internal examination she was engaged in. She blinked rapidly and he asked, "What about you?"

"Oh, um…" she looked down and scanned the menu quickly. "The cedar plank salmon, I think."

"Remember the salmon we had at that place in Kendall Square?" he said with the sort of grin that always made her stomach flip. It was a smile he only used for her.

"The Black Sheep," she said. It was where they went for their two year anniversary.

"I swear I still have dreams about that salmon. It was that good."

She grinned, feeling more comfortable. This was familiar to her, them talking about food. They'd spent entire nights back at MIT just talking about the menu at various restaurants around Cambridge.

"I think you're making the right choice," he said definitively, closing his menu. "As am I."

The waitress returned and they both ordered their meals, Nick also placing an order for calamari to start out with. They ordered it at basically any restaurant where it was on the menu. The waitress set off to the kitchen to place their order and Nick smiled casually at Felicity, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table.

"So, tell me all about Starling City."

* * *

A full meal, two glasses of wine, and half of a piece of tiramisu later, Felicity was feeling wonderful. Her body was practically purring from the delicious food and wine, and she had Nick again. She hadn't realized how much she missed him, and having him across from her at the table made everything better. The wine tasted sweeter. The salmon flakier and more complex.

"So, I was thinking…" she said, reaching forward and taking his hand. "Maybe we can get lunch with Tommy and his roommate Oliver tomorrow. You know Tommy, obviously, but Oliver really wants to meet you. I think you'll like him. He's really great."

"I bet he is," Nick said, squeezing her hand. "But, I'm actually catching a seven o'clock flight back to New York tomorrow morning."

She stared at him. "You're what?"

He drew his hand carefully from hers. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"About what?"

"I've been thinking a lot about this. About us. We've been together for a while."

She nodded. "Yes, we have."

"And I care about you. You know that."

"I do."

She suddenly wished she had another glass of wine, because she had a feeling she was going to need it.

"But I think we both know this isn't working. We've been growing apart."

"It's long distance," she said. "We're just adjusting to it."

"Felicity-"

She shook her head, plowing through whatever he was trying to say.

"We knew it wouldn't be easy. We talked about this. It'll take some time to adjust. But we can do it. I know we can."

"Felicity," he said, voice raised. She fell silent, not wanting to hear what came next. His voice was softer when he said, "I'm in love with someone else."

She'd felt the breakup coming, but this she hadn't expected. It felt like a blow to her gut. He loved someone else. Nick, the person she loved. The person who was supposed to love her, loved someone else. That was jarring enough without the follow up that love didn't happen overnight, meaning that whoever he fell in love with had been in the picture at least for a little while, and she couldn't tell if the feeling rising in her chest was rage or vomit.

"You're in love with someone else," she repeated. "You just had an entire dinner with me. You sat here with me – going on about random shit and 'oh, remember that place we went to for our second anniversary?' – when you are _in love_ with someone else."

"Felicity, just let me-"

"You ass hole," she hissed, slamming her hands down on the table. A few people nearby glanced over and Nick said, "Calm down. Please."

"Calm down? You want me to calm down? You had me sit through this dinner – go through this _entire_ charade – when you were just going to break up with me at the end? No, I won't calm down."

"I never meant to hurt you," he said fervently.

"Well, sorry buddy, it happened. You fell in love with someone else, which I'm taking to mean, also, that you _cheated _on me. What did you _think _would happen?"

"I…" he trailed off, obviously coming to the conclusion that there really was no other way this turn of events could have gone.

"I can't believe I wasted all these years on you," she said, shaking her head.

He stared down at his plate, avoiding her angry gaze. After a moment he glanced up and said, "This is probably out of the question, but is there any chance I could sleep on your couch tonight?"

Felicity's eyes widened with outrage. "No!"

"Of course not. That was stupid. I…" he stood up quickly, reaching in his back pocket for his wallet, "…I'm just going to go. See if I can find a hotel room or something." He opened his wallet and pulled out a few twenty dollar bills. "This should cover dinner."

"I don't want your money," she spat. "I can pay for the meal myself."

He stayed frozen there for a moment, hand held out toward her with the bills clutched in his fingers. He checked himself, though, and pulled back, stuffing the bills back in the wallet and then his wallet back in his pocket. He seemed like he was going to say something, but then he thought against it and gave her a parting nod before heading out of the restaurant. Felicity watched him go, unsure whether she wanted to cry or scream.

There were a few bites of tiramisu left at the table and she picked up her fork, attacking them with a fervor unseen outside of breakups and famine. She was scraping up the last bits of mascarpone on the plate when Oliver sat down across from her.

"Everything okay?"

She kept her gaze trained on the plate, continuing to scrape at the mascarpone, as she said, "Nick and I just broke up. So…" she scraped angrily at the plate, "…no, everything's not okay."

He covered her hand with his and gently pulled the fork from her grasp.

"I think you got everything off that plate," he said, laying the fork down on his side of the table.

It seemed so sad in front of her – that empty plate. Before, it had been filled with so much tiramisu. So much promise. Now it was empty and barren, like her heart.

She glanced up at Oliver, eyes filling with tears.

"He's in love with someone else."

"I'm sorry," he said after a beat. "I'm really sorry, Felicity."

"I should have seen it coming," she said, shaking her head. "I knew his history. I knew about all the other women. But, he always came back to me. I thought that meant something. That I was, I don't know, the one he chose? The one he would always choose. But now he chose her."

"He's a jerk," Oliver said, reaching forward and wiping away an errant tear that had escaped down her cheek. "Anyone who would break up with you in a public place is a jerk. And a coward. And a total idiot, because whoever this other girl is, she can't be even half as wonderful as you are."

She sniffed, wiping at her eyes.

"You're sweet."

"I'm honest," he told her. "Forget about him. He's not worth your tears."

"You're right," she said, nodding. "I know you're right. But I still want to cry into a pint of Chubby Hubby."

"I think you're entitled to one night of that," he said with a slight grin. When she didn't say anything back he took a hold of her hand and said, "Everything will be okay. I know it doesn't seem that way right now, but it will."

He was so earnest sitting there with her hand in his and his eyes searching her face. It occurred to her that she wouldn't want anyone else sitting with her in that moment.

"You're good at that this stuff," she noted.

"I've had a lot of practice. Thea goes through a breakup about every other week."

She laughed a bit, something that felt remarkably nice. "Well, I better call Tommy. He's not going to like having to leave the club, but cousin duty calls."

"Why are you calling him?"

"I figured Nick would drive back so I had an extra glass of wine," she said, reaching down and picking up her purse.

"I can drive you home."

She shook her head. "You're on a date. Which, by the way, you should probably get back to."

"No, it's fine. I'll just go tell her that I have to help out a friend."

"Oliver, I can call Tommy," she said. "You don't have to do this."

"I know," he said. "But I want to."

She hesitated for a moment before relenting. "Okay, go tell her. I'll settle up the bill."

* * *

They didn't talk much on the drive home. She didn't have anything to say, and he followed her silence and didn't try to start conversation. She was grateful for that. After everything that happened, there was something comfortable with the silence.

He parked in front of her apartment and opened her door for her. Usually she would have balked at such blatant chivalry, but tonight she was too tired. All she wanted to do was crawl onto her couch and forget this day.

"Thank you for everything," she said after she'd opened her door and stepped inside. Oliver stood outside the doorway, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. "You were wonderful tonight. Really. Your date is a lucky girl."

"Are you sure you're okay being by yourself?" Oliver asked.

She nodded. "I'm fine, really. I just…need this night to be over. Which, thankfully, it almost is."

"Okay, well, I'll see you later then."

She wrapped her hand around the doorknob, nodding. "Yeah. I'll see you later."

She closed the door and then stood there for a minute, hand still on the doorknob and listening to him walk away. She'd wanted him to stay, but knew she really had no right to ask. He'd done enough, she wouldn't make him sit with her while she at ice cream and watched TV.

It had been a long time since her last breakup, but her remedy hadn't changed. She quickly gathered the basics and settled on the couch. Sleepytime tea, ice cream, and _Gilmore Girls_. She was ready to face her heartbreak.

She was halfway through the season two cotillion episode when there was a knock on her door. She stood up and walked over to the door, wondering who would be knocking on her door at this time of night. Fear gripped her suddenly when she imagined Nick standing on her doorway. With that image very much on her mind, she tentatively looked through the door's peephole, relieved when she saw Oliver and Tommy.

"What are you guys doing here?" she asked after opening the door. She saw that Oliver was holding a bottle of red wine, Tommy held a pint of Cherry Garcia and Chubby Hubby in each hand.

"We're the cheer up committee," Oliver said. "We brought reinforcements in the form of wine and ice cream."

"I personally think we're just celebrating," Tommy piped in. "I mean, you finally being rid of Nick the Prick? That's reason for celebration."

Oliver shook his head and muttered, "Too soon, man."

"It's never to soon."

Felicity rolled her eyes. "Just come in, guys."

They followed her into the apartment, Oliver closing the door, and Tommy noted the _Gilmore Girls_ playing on the television.

"I see your methods have not changed," he said.

"They work."

"I remember this episode," he said, settling on the edge of the couch. "That concerns me."

Felicity walked back from the kitchen, three spoons in her hand. Oliver followed with wine glasses. She settled on the couch beside Tommy, plucking the Chubby Hubby pint from him. She popped open the top, smirking when she saw several spoon marks in the ice cream.

"I might have gotten a little snacky on the drive here," Tommy said casually.

She dug her spoon in and propped her feet up on the coffee table. Oliver sat next to her, setting the glasses on the table and pouring them each a glass. Sitting there between her two favorite guys, Felicity thought to herself that maybe she didn't have things too bad. Sure, her boyfriend fell in love with someone else and told her over what could arguably be called a romantic dinner. But, she also had two amazing guys who gave up their Friday night to eat ice cream and watch _Gilmore Girls _with her. She glanced at both of them, feeling a warmth spread in her chest.

Things weren't too bad, at all.

**A/N: And the boyfriend is handled in one chapter! Bam! Hope you enjoyed this :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This chapter is crazy long. Hope you enjoy!**

Chapter Six

Three seasons. That was how many seasons of _Criminal Minds _Felicity watched in one weekend, and she was damn proud of that number. It took dedication to get that sheer volume of episodes. It took declining plans and devoting full mornings, afternoons, and evenings to the couch and Netflix. But she'd done it easily. Maybe this weekend she could boost that number to four seasons. Then she'd only have three left before she was all caught up.

Most of her shows on Netflix were off limits after her breakup with Nick. He'd ruined so many shows for her now – _Alias, Parks & Recreation, Arrested Development _ - but _Criminal Minds _was safe. He'd never liked it, and now she binged on it like a movie star huffing Oreos after an awards show.

Why did people need to leave their apartment for entertainment, anyway? What did a crowded bar or restaurant have that her apartment didn't? Ambiance? Her apartment was full of it. Social interaction? G-chat was only a click away on her laptop. She had everything she needed and more in her apartment. She had her laptop, a freezer stocked with ice cream, and an entire binder filled with takeout menus. Plus, she didn't have to wear pants.

Everything was perfect until Tommy barged into her apartment one Saturday afternoon. She yelped, scrambling to grab her blanket off the floor and cover her pant-less lower body.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, clutching the blanket around her waist.

Tommy, turned away from her with one hand outstretched, loudly returned, "Why aren't you wearing pants?!"

"I asked my question first!" she said petulantly. He was stilled turned away from her, one hand covering his eyes, and she sighed, "You can turn around. I'm decent now."

He tentatively glanced back, and when he saw the blanket on her lap he faced her.

"I'm here to save you from the hermit downward spiral you are currently on," Tommy explained. "Which, by the way, is worse than I thought it was. It's been two weeks, Felicity. It's time to move on. And, for the love of God, put on some pants."

"I have moved on," Felicity said. "I'm fine."

Tommy's eyes roved over the scene surrounding his cousin. There was a pile of Styrofoam takeout containers piled on the edge of the couch, and if the smell emanating from them told him anything, they'd been there for a while. Her coffee table – which typically was annoyingly tidy – looked like it was trashed by a grade school sleepover. From where he stood he could spot at least three bags of candy, and one sleeve of Oreos that was not even a quarter full.

And then there was Felicity, herself. She looked like she'd gone through hell, and in a way she had. Breakups sucked, especially when it was a relationship as long as hers and Nick's.

"You're not fine," Tommy said gently. "Not even remotely."

She looked to the side, jaw clenching, and he took it as an acquiescence to what he said.

"I'm getting there," she finally said. "To fine. I'm getting there. I just need…time. What happened came out of nowhere, Tommy. I mean, one minute we were sitting there talking about restaurants and then he was telling me he's in love with someone else."

"He's a piece of shit," Tommy said. "He's not worth this."

"I know," she said, picking at her blanket anxiously. "I _know_. But, I don't know what else to do. I don't know how to do this. How to be the person dumped."

He walked toward the couch and pushed over a pile of magazines to sit next to her.

"You just get through it," he said. "But you're not going to get through it sitting on this couch all day. You have to leave your apartment."

"I have left the apartment. I have a job, remember?"

Tommy gave her a look. "Stop fighting my advice."

"Sorry. Go on."

"I want you to come out with me tonight."

"No," she said immediately. She didn't like going out on a normal night, and with everything that happened? That sounded like torture.

"You need to get out," he said. "I think some fun would do you some good. It'll just be Verdant, nothing crazy. I'll even give you a time frame. Midnight. Just go out until midnight, and I _promise _you will have a good time."

She still wasn't convinced and he said, "Have I ever led you astray before?"

"Yes. Many times."

He chuckled. "Harsh critic."

"I might still be holding a grudge for my Beer Olympics hangover."

"Hey, that hangover was a badge of honor. You worked hard for it."

She laughed softly, leaning her head back onto the couch cushion. She stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks.

"I just don't want to feel like this anymore," she said softly.

"Then come out tonight," Tommy said. "It can't hurt, right? It could even help."

She sighed, closing her eyes. "Fine. But only until midnight."

"Well, of course. After that your cab turns into a pumpkin."

"And you're buying all my drinks."

"That goes without saying," he said. He stood up, arching his back as he stretched. "So, I will come here and pick you up at nine."

"You're picking me up? What, do you not trust me to show up on my own?"

"That's correct," he said promptly, ignoring the irritated look she shot him. "So, just to recap. Nine o'clock. Be ready. Fun times will be had."

"Whatever you say."

He grinned. "See you tonight."

She waved him off, already reaching toward her computer to start the next episode of _Criminal Minds_. As he closed the door behind him she heard him call out, "Don't forget pants tonight!"

* * *

Oliver sat on the couch, half-watching the Northwestern versus Illinois football game while he looked over supplier contracts for Verdant. He heard keys clanking outside the front door and then Tommy walked in, shutting the door behind him. His friend was grinning, looking unusually happy for a Saturday afternoon.

"Where were you at?"

The insinuation in his voice was clear, and Tommy said, "Don't make it weird. I was at Felicity's."

That grabbed Oliver's full attention, and he put the stack of contracts to the side.

"How is she?"

"In desperate need of a shower."

Tommy shrugged his coat off, tossing it over one of the kitchen table chairs. He went to the refrigerator and pulled open the door, grabbing a beer for himself.

"Do you want one?" he asked Oliver, holding up the beer.

"Uh, yeah, so did she seem okay? I mean, besides the shower thing?"

Tommy settled next to him, handing him an open beer. He took a pull off his own before answering.

"She seemed like someone who got dumped," Tommy said. "But we're going to fix that. I convinced her to go out tonight."

"You did?" Oliver said.

"Yeah. It'll be good for her. She's been spending all her time holed up in her apartment. It's no wonder she's not over him. What she needs is to be around people. Around other guys. See that there is a world outside of Nick the Prick."

"That's become his actual name to you, hasn't it?"

"You bet."

Oliver laughed, clinking his beer against Tommy's. "Well, Nick the Prick is right. You should have seen it all at the restaurant."

"It's a good thing I didn't. Because I would have punched him."

"I can't say the thought didn't cross my mind."

"I still can't believe you were randomly there. That's some weird serendipity shit."

Oliver nodded, taking a pull from his beer.

"So, whatever happened to that girl you were with?" Tommy asked. "Helena or whatever? Because, if I remember correctly, it was a date. And you don't date."

Oliver frowned. "Felicity said the same thing."

"She's not wrong."

"Why do you think I don't date?"

"Because you don't. _We_ don't. We're not built for it."

Oliver, trying to find anything to refute this statement, grabbed on to the first thing that came to mind and blurted, "What about Nicole? I dated her for six months."

Tommy stared at him. "Horse girl? You're using horse girl as your banner example of dating? You cheated on her constantly."

Oliver winced. "Okay, so, Nicole might not be the best example-"

"Nicole is possibly the worst example" Tommy said. "So, what's the deal with this girl?"

Oliver thought about that for a moment. What was different about Helena? There was nothing remarkable he could really pinpoint. She was beautiful. She was funny. She could hold a conversation, which actually was a novel attribute, but when he really thought of her as a person, there was nothing remarkable. She was just a nice girl. And for some reason, that had been enough for him to do something he hadn't done in years. He actually called when he said he would. So often, he'd usher a girl out of the apartment, spouting off bullshit about calling and, yes, lunch the next day sounded perfect, and it never came to anything. Why call the same girl when you could find a new one?

But he'd wanted to try something different. To see if _he _could be different. He'd written himself off years ago as someone who wasn't capable of more than something casual, but when he stopped to think about it he couldn't actually articulate why. It was something he thought about often over the past few weeks. Maybe it was due to Tommy's comments when Felicity first came to town, or Felicity herself, but he began to question that assumption, and why it was he just accepted it.

His thoughts drifted to what Felicity had said before her dinner, about him not being the dating type, and how incensed he'd gotten. Thinking back, he realized that it wasn't what she'd said that bothered him so much as that she was the one saying it. He didn't want her to see him that way. He wanted her to believe he was capable of more, because at the end of the day he wanted to believe it, too.

"You alive over there?" Tommy asked.

"Sorry, I was just…do you think you could ever be in a real relationship? I mean, I know we joke about not being built for it, but if you met the right girl and it was the right time, do you think you could really do it?"

Tommy thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, I guess. If it was the right girl."

Oliver was quiet, taking in what Tommy said.

"Are we done with this Oprah moment?" Tommy asked after a beat. "Because if we're going to continue, I'm going to have to switch to something harder."

Oliver laughed. "No, man. We're finished."

* * *

Tommy picked her up at exactly eight o'clock and naturally the first thing he did is comment on her outfit. She'd chosen a loose, boxy dress with flats. Was it the most flattering outfit for a night out? No. But it was comfortable and didn't require a bra, and when one was being forced to go to a club on a perfectly nice Saturday evening they should be allowed to wear what they wanted.

Tommy did not share this sentiment.

"You're not even trying," Tommy complained, gesturing toward her dress.

"I said I would go. I never said I would try," she returned stubbornly.

"The whole point of tonight is for you to get out and meet some people. No one is going to want to meet you in that mumu."

"It is not a mumu!"

"It has Hawaiian flowers on it. It's a mumu." He began to circle her, examining the dress. "My god, you could fit an entire nuclear family in here. Plus a kid from an extra-marital affair."

"Tommy-"

"Are you wearing it to sneak snacks in? Do you have a fanny pack under there stuffed with Twizzlers or something?"

She narrowed her eyes. "No. Although, I have to admit, that's sort of a genius idea."

"Okay, I can't stand this," he said, striding past her into her bedroom. She followed after him, irritably saying, "Don't you go in my closet, Tommy Merlyn! I mean it!"

He didn't listen. When she caught up with him he already was pulling a short red shift dress out of her closet.

"What about this? Red looks good on you."

"I'm not changing," she held.

He ignored her, continuing to rifle through her closet. She fought him for a few minutes but then gave up, sitting heavily on the edge of her bed. The awful part was that she knew he was right. Getting out would do her good, and she did need to meet people and get Nick out of her system.

Finally, sick of Tommy messing up the ordered chaos known as her closet, she stood up and nudged him out of the way, reaching into her closet and immediately pulling out a magenta dress with a fitted bodice and gauzy skirt that flowed nicely when she moved.

"Go outside. I'll put this on."

Tommy gave her a look. "You had an appropriate dress chosen all this time, didn't you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Outside. Now."

Three minutes later she walked out in the dress and nude heels. Tommy nodded appreciatively and said, "Now you look like someone who wants to get over their ex."

She sighed in response. "Let's just go."

* * *

Two hours and three glasses of wine later, Felicity didn't mind Verdant. She liked the packed venue and the way she couldn't even hear her own thoughts over the loud pulsing of the music. She thought too much. Really, she did. She was always thinking about something. Worrying about something. That was her problem. She had to stop thinking, stop worrying, and just be. At least that was what she was telling the guy next to her whose name was either Kevin or Robert. She couldn't remember which it was, but both seemed to fit him.

"Life is just so much better when you don't think," she said loudly. "Don't you think that?"

"Yeah, totally," he said, the hand on her leg inching higher.

"I mean, if I think too much I think…maybe it means something that my ex fell in love with someone else. I mean, that _has _to mean something. People don't just fall in love with other people, right?" Kevin or Robert didn't respond, thinking it a rhetorical question, and she pressed, "Right?"

"Oh, right. Yeah, definitely right."

"Right," she said again. "But if I don't think about it. Poof! It's gone! It's all gone!"

"Well, I think –"

"No!" she said, covering his mouth with her hand. "You're not supposed to be thinking!"

He took a hold of her wrist, prying her hand from his mouth as he chuckled.

"I was going to say how could anyone fall in love with someone other than you?"

It was such a line – Felicity knew that – but she smiled anyway.

"You talk well, Kevin or Robert."

He laughed. "It's Kevin."

She grinned wide. "Kevin. Well. You talk well, Kevin."

* * *

"Are you sure this is the best thing for her?" Oliver asked, leaning against the bar with Tommy, watching Felicity preen over something the guy next to her said. She leaned against him, and Oliver watched the guy's hand inch up Felicity's leg, the edges of his fingertips just poking under her dress's skirt.

"She needs to get out there again," Tommy said. He, too, noticed the placement of the guy's hand. "Is that guy really feeling her up in broad daylight?"

"It's technically not daylight."

"Well, this is good for her. Some attention. Some time away from Netflix. This is what she needs."

"Sure."

Tommy continued watching Felicity, jaw clenched. "But if that guy's hand goes any higher I'm going over there."

Oliver smirked.

* * *

"Do you want another drink?" Kevin asked. "Your wine glass looks a little low."

"I'd love more," Felicity said.

"What were you drinking?"

"Oh, whatever," she said lightly. Right now, she didn't care what it was as long as it kept the pleasant buzz in her head going. He wandered off to the bar and she took a sip from her wine glass, tipping her head back to get the last bit.

When her head was level again Oliver had slipped into the seat beside her, his hands folded on the table and gaze inquiringly.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"Wonderful. You know, I really like it here."

Oliver grinned. "Well, thank you. As co-owner, I'm always happy to hear that."

"Did you see my guy?" she asked conspiringly. "Pretty nice, huh?"

"Yeah, he seemed nice. What's his name?"

Her face went blank. "Kevin. I think. Or maybe Robert. He told me. I forgot. He told me again. Anyway…" she trailed off, attention focusing again. "Hi."

Oliver laughed lightly. "Hi. Where'd he go?"

"To get me a drink."

"You might want to slow down. Remember that hangover you had after the Beer Olympics? I won't be there in the morning to make you banana toast and coffee."

"Banana toast," she sighed nostalgically, tilting her head to the side. "You should just be there every morning I wake up to make me banana toast."

He blinked rapidly at her words, and knowing that she wouldn't remember this in the morning, he smiled softly and said, "Yeah. That would be nice."

She returned his grin, and Oliver thought to himself that somehow, over the past few weeks, her smile had become one of his favorite things. In fact, there were a lot of things about her he'd come to like. He liked the way she hogged the popcorn when they all watched TV together, and how she sang along to commercial jingles. He liked that she drank her coffee black and only caved when the holiday creamers came out. He liked that she was fiercely loyal to Tommy, but still didn't put up with any of his crap. He liked her, period. Felicity Smoak, and all the little oddities that made her unlike anyone else he'd ever known.

"Oliver," she murmured.

"Yeah?"

She glanced meaningfully over his shoulder and he turned his head, looking up at Kevin or Robert with her glass of wine. The guy looked down at him with an expression he could clearly read. He'd given it himself over the years. Back off.

And he did. Because, it wasn't his place to do anything else. He stood up, laying his hand on her shoulder as he said, "I'll see you later, Felicity."

He turned, coming nearly chest to chest with the other guy. He sized him up, giving the clear impression that if he did something, he'd have to answer to Oliver. The guy just stared back, holding Oliver's gaze until Oliver broke away, squaring his shoulders as he walked back to Tommy.

"How drunk is she?" Tommy asked.

"Drunk, but not too bad," Oliver said. "You definitely should make sure you put her in a cab alone, though. I don't think she'd be too happy to wake up next to that guy. Or any guy, for that matter."

Tommy nodded. "How did the man of the hour seem?"

Oliver shrugged. "Harmless enough."

"Good. Well, then our work for the evening is done. See anything here worth talking to?"

Oliver glanced around, more for show than anything, and said, "Not at the moment."

Tommy nodded in agreement. "Yeah. Me neither."

They kept their spot at the bar, keeping an eye on Felicity as they sipped at their drinks, both pretending it was anything but a conscious choice.

* * *

Felicity didn't finish her last glass of wine. What Oliver told her rang in her head, and as she sipped on the water she'd asked Kevin to get her previously, her buzz slowly receded, and she began to notice little things like how his stories weren't making any sense, and his hand was getting uncomfortably high on her leg. She was relieved when she got a text from Tommy that read:

_It's midnight._

_You want to go?_

She did. Desperately. She slipped her phone back into her purse and set the guy with a sheepish grin as she told him she had to go.

"What? It's early still."

"I really have to go," she said, standing up. She tried to step around him, the small table hitting the back of her legs, and he reached up and grasped her hips.

"Why don't we head back to my place," he said, pulling her toward him. "It's nice and quiet there. We can talk."

"I don't think talking is really what you have in mind," Oliver said, suddenly appearing beside them. He took a hold of Felicity's arm and said, "Are you ready to go home?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"I recommend you move now," Oliver said pleasantly, but there was an edge to his voice. The guy hesitated but then stood up, stepping aside. Oliver had Felicity pass first, her eyes locking with his as she passed, and then he gave the guy a perfunctory nod and followed her.

"How you feeling, Sparky?" Tommy asked, throwing his arm around Felicity's shoulders.

"Like I'm going to have a major wine headache tomorrow."

"Hey, at least that's new pain!" Tommy said jubilantly, leading them out of the club.

Felicity smirked. She glanced back at the table where she'd been sitting with Kevin, but it was empty.

"Guys, I wasn't…I didn't do anything embarrassing at the table, did I?"

"You mean besides almost letting that guy give you a pelvic exam in public?" Tommy responded glibly.

Felicity's eyes widened. "His hand wasn't that high. It wasn't. Was it?"

"It wasn't," Oliver assured her. "And no, you did nothing embarrassing. You just…had fun. Which was the point of tonight, wasn't it?"

"It was," she agreed. "You know, I actually do feel a little better. Besides the impending wine headache."

"See, I told you this was what you needed," Tommy said. With it being early, the cab line was short and Tommy held the door open for her as she climbed in. When she was buckled into the seat he poked his head in and said, "Now, what did we learn tonight?"

She rolled her eyes. "That you're right. On occasion. Very, very few occasions."

Tommy grinned. "I'll take it. Text me when you're home, okay?"

"I will. Night Tommy." She leaned forward so she could see Oliver. "Goodnight, Oliver."

"Goodnight, Felicity."

She closed the door and told the cab driver her address, resting her head against the back of the cushion as the cab zoomed down the street.

* * *

The next morning Felicity awoke to a knock on her front door. She groaned, rolling over and picking her phone up from the nightstand. It felt like it was monstrously early, but her phone told her that it was, in fact, eleven o'clock. She pulled herself out of bed, grabbing her Tardis robe and pulling it on as she yawned.

She tripped over a pair of shoes on her way to the door, swearing softly as her foot throbbed. Wine would not be touching her lips for at least another month. Or until the pounding in her head subsided.

When she opened the door she was surprised to see Oliver standing there with a Tupperware in his hands.

"Oliver? What are you doing here? Did Tommy accidentally pick up a hooker again?"

Oliver chuckled. "You know, that never actually happened."

"I know. It just seems like something that should have by now. What's in the Tupperware?"

He looked down at it, as if he'd forgotten it was in his hands to begin with, and held it out for her.

"It's for you. Peanut butter toast, personally delivered for your morning."

"You're kidding," she said, taking the Tupperware from him and opening it up. Sure enough, there were two pieces of toast with peanut butter smeared on it topped with sliced banana. "You're not kidding."

"I thought you could use it this morning."

"Thank you. This is…This is incredibly sweet of you. Do you want to come in? I can make some coffee."

He shook his head. "I'm actually just stopping by on my way to Verdant. There's a beer shipment I need to sign off on."

"Okay. Well, thank you again for the peanut butter toast. I will put it to good use. And by good use, I mean eat it. Because it's food. And that's what you do with food. You eat it, because it is food and _oh my God_ the words just keep coming…"

He grinned. "I'll see you later, Felicity."

She nodded, leaning against the frame of her door. "Bye Oliver."

She watched him walk away for a minute before stepping back and closing the door in front of her. She padded back to the kitchen and sat down, opening the Tupperware and pulling out one of the pieces of toast. She took a bite, wincing as the familiar acrid taste of burnt bread hit the roof of her mouth. He'd burned it last time, too – almost to the point of inedibility – but she didn't have the heart to tell him.

Just like then, she ate it anyway.

**A/N: I am DYING to hear what you all thought of this. AND your thoughts on the Arrow premiere. I just want to hear from you guys!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I don't know what you guys will think about this chapter. It's different from the others. But, I had an idea and I ran with it! I hope you enjoy this!**

Chapter Seven

She didn't know how it happened. One minute she had been perfectly fine, making fun of him for not being able to eat with chopsticks, and then she was kissing him, a container of mushu pork knocked to the ground by her foot as she climbed onto his lap.

She was kissing him. Oliver. She was kissing _Oliver_.

"But I'm getting ahead of myself," Felicity said, taking a deep breath. "We need to start at the beginning."

It all started because Tommy was out of town. Malcolm decided that it was high time for some family bonding, and while Tommy was partial to spending time with his father he was not partial to spending time in the Bahamas with free drinks, so he went along, opining how he could probably grab himself a few islanders to entertain him when he'd had enough of Malcolm.

He left on a Tuesday, teasingly telling Felicity and Oliver to behave, and then two became one. Unaccustomed to having the apartment to himself for such a stretch, Oliver called Felicity to join him for dinner. She'd agreed – having nothing more than Netflix and wine on the agenda – and showed up with a Rosati pizza and their famous cheesy bread.

"I could write an ode to this bread," she'd cooed, picking at a glob of cheese on the edge of the bread and pulling it off. "Really. I'll write one right now."

"Please don't," he'd returned drily.

"Fine. But it's your loss. My odes are a thing of beauty."

And so the week without Tommy began. Felicity went there every night, bringing a different cuisine from the bountiful Starling City selections. Wednesday it was Al's Pancake House – where they surprisingly did not sell pancakes. Thursday it was Mariano's. Friday it was Bombay Bistro. Saturday it was Bombay Bistro again – "I could write an ode about this curry." "Please don't." - and Sunday a rare night of leftovers. Monday, the last night of what could arguably have been called the culinary tour of Starling City, they went all in with Lang's Chinese Express.

Somewhere during the week they'd moved from the edges of the couch to the middle, her legs folded underneath her with her inner knee resting on his thigh. They brushed arms as they reached for food, sharing dipping sauces and even occasional bites. It didn't seem like anything at the time – but then again, maybe it had. Felicity distinctly remembered a tingling in her chest when Oliver insisted she eat the last wonton. The sudden cheek biting to mask the idiotic smile that spread on her face when she saw him ignore a text from whoever was blowing up his phone.

"But it was nothing," Felicity said, reaching up and adjusting her glasses. "We're just friends. I mean, that's all we could ever be. Because he's him. And I'm me. And, oh my God, if Tommy finds out…"

Who knew that Chinese food was such an aphrodisiac? They'd been talking, nothing out of the ordinary, but both of them could feel that something had shifted. Her knee was still propped up on his leg, but now his hand had curled itself around her knee. He'd never done that before, but they'd never been this close. His hand felt comfortable on her knee, and she found herself leaning against him.

Mushu pork. It was a sexier food than Felicity ever knew. She'd never really considered food sexy, but then Oliver was eating it next to her and all she could think about was his lips and mouth, and what his lips and mouth would look like in other places.

She'd tried to put distance between them, tried to sit a little farther away and not stare at him as his tongue darted out to catch an errant noodle, but it was no use. Somewhere between Tuesday and that night she'd caught a fever of sorts, and there was no cure in sight.

By the time he'd dropped a whole clump of noodles on his shirt, she was a goner. She'd laughed, picking them up with her fingers and tossing them on her plate. Bringing her fingers to her lips, she'd absentmindedly sucked the sauce from them, unaware of the way his eyes darkened and jaw ticked. But the naked lust was still there when she'd wiped her fingers on her jeans and returned her gaze to his. It had surprised her then – the way he was looking at her – but perhaps what surprised her more was that his look mirrored the exact feelings churning in her own body.

It had been a while since she'd just wanted someone. She was usually more of a logical person, following her head and whatnot. Passion didn't play much of a role. But there, in his living room, she'd had the distinct realization that she wanted nothing more than to crawl onto his lap and kiss him senseless.

So, that's what she did.

"I don't know what's worse, the fact that it happened or that I don't really care. I mean I _care_. I don't just go around kissing people and not caring. Not that there's anything wrong with people who do! I just don't. Kiss and not care, I mean. But…right after I was all worried and sure that we had made a huge mistake, but I don't care anymore. I just did what I wanted for once and it felt pretty nice. Sure, the fall out could be catastrophic. And there's a very good chance that when Tommy finds there will be hysterics to _American Pyscho _proportions. But what's life without some risks, right?"

The woman blinked at Felicity, reaching up and adjusting her headset wedged under her Big Belly Burger baseball cap.

"That's nice. Um, but the 'how are you today?' was really more of a rhetorical question. We have to ask or our manager yells at us."

"Oh. Right. I'm sorry."

The woman smiled uncomfortably. "Your total comes to $8.37."

Felicity took a ten dollar bill out of her wallet and then leaned over and handed it to the woman through the drive through window. When she got her change she pulled up to the second window where her food would come out, thinking that you've probably reached rock bottom when you're relating your problems to the Big Belly Burger drive through person.

* * *

Her and Oliver agreed to meet the day after what she'd secretly began referring to as The Mushu Pork Incident. With time on her side – i.e. roughly twenty two hours or so – she began to think that perhaps making out with him on his couch wasn't the smartest thing. First, they were friends. That made it messy enough. And then he was Tommy's roommate. Oliver she could erase from her life if things went south, but she couldn't do that to her own blood.

All she could hope, as she walked to the local coffee shop where her and Oliver set to meet, was that he'd agree it was a mistake. Otherwise, they'd have to face truths that she had a feeling neither was fully equipped to contend with.

She spotted him through the large bay window before she walked into the coffee shop. He was sitting at a corner table, looking uncharacteristically anxious in his dark green zip up and cup of coffee. She watched him from outside for a moment, grinning when he spilled some coffee down the front of his shirt and wiped at it with a napkin, furtively glancing around to see if anyone noticed.

She did. But she thought to herself that she seemed to notice a lot of things about him that others didn't.

She walked into the coffee shop and headed back toward his table. When he saw her he jerked a bit in his seat, like he was about to get up but decided against it halfway out of his seat. She'd never been nervous around him before, but she undeniably felt that familiar – albeit unfamiliar around him – sensation grip her.

"I got you an Earl Grey," Oliver said, pushing the mug toward her. "I can get you something else if you-"

"Earl Grey is perfect," she said, taking the mug and wrapping her hands around it. The mug warmed her palms like a small space heater.

"So, how are you?" he asked.

"Okay. I mean, I did treat a Big Belly drive through person as a personal shrink earlier today, but all things considered…"

Oliver smirked. "So, yesterday. We should talk about that."

"Yes. Yesterday. Like the Beatles song. But not. Because no one makes out in that song. As far as I know. There _might_ be some subtext I'm unaware of."

"What are your thoughts?"

She narrowed her eyes. "What are yours?"

He laughed – the sound somewhere between nervous and exasperated – and he said, "I think you're wonderful. I think that you're beautiful and smart and any guy would have been lucky to make out with you. But it probably shouldn't have been me."

She nodded, wondering why after hearing exactly what she wanted she felt disappointed.

"First off, Tommy would kill me," Oliver continued. "Or I guess the proper tense is _will _kill me. And, I'm not right for you. You're a relationship girl."

"And you're not a relationship guy?" she asked, thinking this went against everything he'd been trying to tell her for the past few weeks. But again, she was getting what she wanted. Why was she fighting him?

He shrugged. "It's better this way."

"It is," she agreed, stopping herself before she could go and argue with him more and while she was at it ruin everything. He was letting her off easy - not even questioning why she'd essentially jumped him. It was time for her to shut up and just agree with him.

"So, we're decided," she said with a decisive nod. "It was a mistake. And it definitely won't happen again."

* * *

Tommy came home and remained – at least for the time being – blithely unaware of what had transpired between his roommate and cousin. Felicity almost thought they'd gotten away with it until her dry cough she'd had for the past week or so turned into a hacking cough and she was hit with such debilitating exhaustion that she'd left a _Sex And The City _DVD playing the opening screen saver for three hours straight until the TV turned off on its own – too tired to get up and change the DVD herself.

She dragged herself to the doctor's office one afternoon and a few days later received a dreary diagnosis for someone who was swapping saliva with someone only a week and a half earlier.

Mono.

She called Oliver, wincing when he answered the phone with a loud, phlegm-filled cough.

"Sorry," Oliver said, voice hoarse. "How are you?"

"Admittedly, not great," Felicity said.

"What's wrong?"

"Don't be mad. But, um, I went to the doctor earlier this week and I sort of have…mono."

Oliver was silent on the other end of the line.

"Oliver?"

"Are you saying you gave me mono?"

"No. I'm _suggesting_ that I gave you mono."

Oliver groaned. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm sorry."

"Mono? Seriously? I didn't think people got that outside of high school."

"They do. I'm living proof. And possibly you. Did I mention I'm sorry?"

"Are they sure it's mono? Maybe it's just a cold or something."

"No, they tested me. It's mono. So, um, you probably should go and get yourself tested, too. Who knows, you could just have a boring old cold! How great would that be?"

She could almost hear Oliver roll his eyes.

"I'll go to the doctor tomorrow."

* * *

Felicity planned to keep it to herself that she had mono, but then Tommy tried to drink her coffee, and almost like a gut reaction she blurted out, "No, the mono!"

He'd looked at her like she was insane and then after she admitted that she had mono made fun of her for a good twenty minutes about having the kissing disease.

"Who were you kissing, Felicity?" he'd teased.

"No one," she'd returned vehemently. It was partially true. She didn't get it from kissing. Who knew how she got it. She thought of her mug at work, and how it sat in the communal kitchen. Knowing her luck some mono-infected-coworker used it on the sly and stuck her with his or her illness. But it definitely wasn't kissing. She hadn't been doing that for a long while before Oliver.

It was because of this knowledge that Tommy Merlyn found it particularly puzzling when he overheard a message on his and Oliver's answering machine from Starling City Community Hospital relaying that Oliver's mononucleosis test results were in.

When Oliver came home from his run – which he hacked all the way through – Tommy told him about the message.

"You know, it's funny," Tommy said offhandedly. "Felicity has mono."

"She does?" Oliver asked carefully, wiping at his face.

"Yeah. She told me a few days ago. Actually, more like yelled it at me when I tried to drink her coffee. That girl is territorial with her caffeine."

Oliver answered with a stilted laugh. "Yeah. Well, I'm going to shower."

He almost made it to the bathroom before Tommy put everything together.

"You have MONO?"

* * *

Felicity was several capfuls of Nyquil into the night when there was a knock on her door. She gave her nose a quick blow before standing up and dragging herself to the door. When she opened it she was surprised to see Oliver standing there with a collection of duffel bags. His nose was red, just like hers, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"So, Tommy knows," Oliver said. "And he kicked me out."

"What?"

"Do you think I could crash here until he gets over himself? It usually takes him two days. Three tops."

Felicity nodded, stepping back. He glanced around her apartment, eyes taking in the tissues strewn all around every visible surface and then finally the steaming pot of chicken noodle soup on the stove.

"Is that soup?" he asked unnecessarily, but he felt the need to ask it anyway as he padded over to the kitchen.

"Help yourself," she said, settling back on the couch.

He returned with two bowls – one for him, one for her - and sat next to her on the couch, a respectable distance between them. He got himself a spoonful and then raised it a bit from the bowl as he hoarsely said, "To our mono."

"I'm really sorry," she said.

"It's okay," he said with a shrug, sticking the spoon in his mouth. "It's about time for Tommy and my yearly blowout. Usually it's in the summer – the heat riles him up and all – but this is good. Get it out early in the year."

Felicity laughed, and the laugh turned into a cough. Oliver patted her on the back.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I feel like I'm dying."

"Hey, me too," he returned glibly with a thin smile. "At least you feel like you're dying with company. That's something, right?"

"You shouldn't be here. This is all my fault. I should have never jumped you," Felicity said morosely.

"If I remember correctly, I was very complicit in the jumping."

Felicity remembered how his hands felt against her skin and murmured, "Yes. Yes you were."

"We'll get through this."

She didn't know if he meant the mono or everything else, but she nodded anyway, thinking that it was an appropriate statement for all of the above.

"I hope."

**A/N: A few things (1) Bonus points if you can catch the Gilmore Girls reference here! (2) Just pretend Oliver and Tommy would have an answering machine. Yes, I know it probably wouldn't happen IRL but...plot device! (3) Some of you will think this happened too fast. I sort of agree. But I got the idea and it felt right. And note where they end up at the end. They are no closer to being together, it's just added another layer to their relationship. So...hopefully you don't think this was too OOC for these kiddos. **

**I'd love your thoughts! Dying to hear them, actually!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: There is some fun stuff in here and it keeps the story chugging along. Hope you enjoy!**

Chapter Eight

It turned out that Tommy did not get over things quickly. This was evidenced by the fact that it was two weeks after the big Mushu Pork Incident became common knowledge, and Oliver was still sleeping on her couch. He kept telling her that it would blow over the next day, and the next day, and the _next day_. But she was starting to think that there was no end in sight for Tommy's anger.

She discussed this with her cousin over Pad Thai at the local Thai restaurant. He was sympathetic but firm in his standing that him and Oliver were done for the foreseeable future.

"I don't get why you're all mad at him and not me," Felicity said. "I was an active participant. Some would even say I started it."

"Yeah, but it's different. You're you. You're like this nubile lamb out in the wild." Felicity made a face at him, but he continued, completely un-phased. "I couldn't expect you to know what you were getting into with Oliver. But he knew. Oh, he knew. And for that reason, I will stay pissed at him until such time that I feel my anger is no longer warranted."

"Okay, for starters, please never call me a nubile lamb again. It's weird even for you. And, I don't know, I think you're wrong about Oliver. He's different than when I first met him."

Tommy gave her a look.

"Not that I'm pursuing anything," she said quickly. "We both agreed it was a mistake. He said so himself. But he seems different. He took that girl out on a date. A real date."

"Yeah, and he hasn't called her since."

"He hasn't?"

Tommy shook his head. "No, that date was the only one. He said some stupid shit about how she wasn't the one or something. Like either of us actually believe in that."

"Maybe he does."

He gave her a look and said, "You're not that naïve."

"Why is it so difficult for you to think he's changed?" Felicity argued. When Tommy showed no sign of budging she shoved her fork into a pile of rice noodles on her plate and said, "Anyway, he's not the one you should be mad at. I kissed him. I started it. He probably just kissed me back so I wouldn't be embarrassed."

That thought had crossed her mind. Things seemed to fall back so effortlessly into place between her and Oliver. It was nothing like the movies said it would be. She'd watched _When Harry Met Sally _more times than she could count, and they had none of that awkward time after, both of them tensely eating salads as the gravity of just how much changed – and how they had only themselves to blame - settles between them. They'd jumped right back into friendship.

"I couldn't be mad at you if I tried," Tommy said. "You know that."

"So you'll just shift all your anger to Oliver? Because that sounds really unfair."

"You were off limits," Tommy said with finality.

She blinked. Once. Twice. Three times as what he said really hit home.

"I was _what_?"

"I told him when you came here that you were off limits. I let him chase after a lot of women – even my high school sweetheart – but he was not, under any circumstances, to go after you."

Felicity felt an uncharacteristic flare of anger. Who was Tommy to decide who she could see or not see? She wasn't this fragile inexperienced little girl that he thought she was. That might have been her when they were growing up, but not anymore. She was a grown woman and she didn't like decisions being unilaterally made for her.

"That is total bullshit."

"It's for your own good," he said offhandedly, attention on his plate as he scraped up the last bits of his pad thai. "You have no idea how awful some guys are."

"I'm going to go," she said, standing up and putting her napkin on her seat.

He looked up in confusion. "What? You're not mad, are you?"

"I'm twenty five and my cousin who hasn't seen a monogamous day in his life is deciding who I can and cannot date," she said irritably. "Yeah, I'm mad. Call me when you get your head out of your ass."

"Felicity, come on-"

She didn't wait to hear the rest, stalking out of the restaurant. She knew where he was coming from. Really, she did. But for the love of God, couldn't she make a mistake of her own if she wanted? She wasn't entirely certain if Oliver was a mistake or not, but it was her right to make it. What was life without some risk? Without taking a chance? She'd spent years playing it safe with Nick and look where that got her.

She was seething when she got home, Oliver sitting on the couch watching some sports game. He looked up when she slammed her purse on the table while grumbling under her breath at a volume just loud enough so he caught the curse words.

"What's wrong?"

"Did Tommy really put me off limits?" she demanded, hands on her waist.

Oliver blinked. "Yes."

She stepped forward, mind ticking. "So, he actually said the words. He said, 'My cousin is off limits.'?"

"Pretty much, yeah. He even banned impure thoughts."

"I can't _believe _him!" she said angrily, stomping over to the kitchen and pulling open the refrigerator. She grabbed a beer and came to the couch, sitting down with a heavy plop.

"Who is _he _to tell me who I can date or not?" she railed, trying ineffectually to twist the cap off the beer bottle.

Oliver reached into his pocket and pulled out his set of keys. "Give it here. That's not a twist off."

She handed it over and he used the bottle opener from his keys to open it as she talked.

"It's ridiculous. Why does he have to be so big brother? Do you know he called me a nubile lamb? A nubile lamb?!"

Oliver snorted, handing her the beer.

"And do you know what's worse? I think he actually believes that. I think he believes that I am this naïve, incompetent girl who just goes for the first flash in the pan. He thinks I get dazzled. I don't get dazzled. I've never been dazzled a day in my life."

"Nick the Prick sort of dazzled you." Oliver pointed out.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Sometimes I'm dazzled. But I thought I loved him. I _did _love him. But, I'm not so far gone that I just go for the first person who bats their eye lashes at me. But _he _thinks that." She took a long pull from her beer. "Oh, he thinks that. I hate him. I absolutely hate him."

"No you don't."

She frowned and shook her head, taking another swig of her beer.

"No," she admitted. "I don't. But why doesn't he trust me?"

"It's not about you," he said. "Or at least not the way you think. As you know, I don't have the best track record with women. He wanted to protect you from me. And in a way, he's right."

"Don't you start going on about that, too," Felicity said, rolling her eyes. "You're not that person who stole my cab anymore."

He raised an eyebrow. "I thought we were never supposed to mention that?"

"I did it for the sake of your personal growth," she said, raising her beer bottle. "But, really. You're not the same person. To be honest, I don't think I'm the same person, either."

"I just think you should cut him some slack. He was looking out for you, whether it feels like that or not."

She shook her head. "I can't believe you're defending the guy who kicked you out."

"I guess I see his point."

Felicity shrugged, taking another pull from her beer. Her eyes settled on the game playing on the screen, and she said, "Why does the screen look so grainy? Did you break my TV?"

He chuckled. "No. It's the 1984 NBA finals between the Celtics and Lakers."

"Why would you watch an old basketball game?" she asked, propping her feet up on the coffee table.

"It's a classic. The height of the Larry Bird and Magic Johnson rivalry. It's really basketball at its best."

"I didn't understand a word you just said."

"Okay. Now, _I'm_ worried about you. How can you have such a lacking sports education with Tommy as your cousin?"

"Because he knew better than to talk sports with me."

"Sit back and relax," Oliver told her, patting her arm with his hand. "These next three hours are going to be life altering."

She stared at him, mouth agape. "Three hours?"

* * *

It took two days, dozens of texts, and three phone calls before Felicity finally cooled off enough to hear Tommy out. She went to his apartment, feet tucked under her on the couch as Tommy told her, for the fifth time that conversation, "I just worry about you."

"I know," she said. "But you can't use that as an excuse to do things like tell people they can't date me."

"Not date. Go after."

She gave him a look. "I'm a big girl. I can handle myself. And my mistakes. Because I'm going to make them, but that's okay. I think I'm entitled to a few of those after Nick."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"I don't want to get hurt, either," she said. "But you have to let me take that chance."

"With Oliver?"

She shook her head. "No, not with Oliver. That is not happening. Ever. So, please, for the love of God let him come home. I'm not used to living with someone else. It's really cramping my living alone style."

Tommy snorted. "Can't lounge without pants anymore?"

"No," she said emphatically. "I can't. I have to wear pants. And buy extra milk. And there keeps being _sports_ on my TV. And you know how much I hate sports."

"A lot."

"He made me watch three hours of some old basketball game," she complained.

"What one was it?"

"'84 NBA finals, I think?"

Tommy nodded appreciatively. "That's a great game. Larry Bird and Magic Johnson at the height of their rivalry."

Felicity groaned. "Please take him back. I'm begging you."

"I'll think about it."

"I hear ESPN broadcasters in my dreams," Felicity said. "Just last night my dream was narrated by Jon Barry."

"Hey, I'm surprised you know that name."

"Do you see what's happening to me?" she asked loudly.

Tommy sighed. "Okay, okay. Tell Oliver to head back here whenever he's ready."

Felicity grinned wide, clapping her hands together. "Tonight. He will be ready tonight."

* * *

With only a few bags, Oliver was easily moved back into his and Tommy's apartment by Monday night football. He sat with Tommy, both of them on their third beer.

"I can't believe you got her to watch basketball," Tommy noted. "I tried for over ten years and it never happened."

"It's the benefit of having one television, I guess," Oliver said, finishing his beer and leaning forward to put the bottle on the table. "It was actually pretty funny trying to explain the game to her. I swear she has some sort of sports mental block. I can't even tell you how many times I tried to explain what a euro step is."

Tommy studied his roommate for a moment and then said, "You didn't kiss her back out of pity, did you?"

"What?" Oliver said in surprise.

"When she kissed you. You didn't kiss her back so she wouldn't be embarrassed."

Oliver hesitated for a moment and then said, "No. I didn't."

"You actually like her."

It wasn't a question. Oliver swallowed hard and said, "You're not going to kick me out again, are you?"

Tommy sighed, shaking his head. "No. No, I'm not."

**A/N: Knowing NOTHING about sports I had to do some research for the references in here. But it was worth it. Hope you enjoyed :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: There is some fun stuff in here and it keeps the story chugging along. Hope you enjoy!**

Chapter Nine

It was 8:30 on a Saturday night, and Felicity, Oliver, and Tommy were seated on the boy's well worn couch, Tommy in the middle hogging the popcorn and constantly telling Oliver and Felicity to shush when they talked over the action on the television screen. There was a Batman marathon on FX, and they were about halfway through _The Dark Knight_.

"Wait, so this one doesn't have Anne Hathaway in it?" Felicity asked for the second time.

"No, I told you. She's in _The Dark Knight Rises_," Tommy returned.

Felicity frowned. "I thought she was in this one. Are you sure she doesn't come in at the end or something?"

Tommy gave her a look.

"What? It's not like you haven't seen this before!" she argued lightly.

"That doesn't mean I want you talking through the whole movie," he said, poking her in the arm. "For the last time, Anne Hathaway is not in this movie."

Felicity sighed, glancing at her watch. "Well, then it's a good thing I have to leave. I was only watching for her Catwoman."

Tommy looked at her in confusion. "Why do you have to leave?"

"I have plans," she said, arching her back as she stretched. Oliver, who had leaned forward, forearms resting on his legs, pointedly avoided looking at her.

"But we're here," Tommy said slowly.

Felicity rolled her eyes, standing up and walking over to the kitchen table where she'd tossed her coat and purse earlier.

"I have other friends, you know."

Tommy and Oliver both exchanged a dubious look, which Felicity caught.

"What do you think I do at work all day? Hide in my cubicle and avoid social interaction?"

"That's what you did back in high school. Except, back then it was a bathroom stall."

"Very funny, Tommy. And I didn't eat lunch in a bathroom stall." She straightened her spine a bit and added, "I ate in the nurse's office."

"You ate lunch in the nurse's office?" Oliver asked, thinking something was remarkably sad about that. He envisioned a young Felicity in a peter pan collared shirt and oversized glasses sitting by herself in the whitewashed office, nursing an apple juice box.

"It's not as sad as it sounds," Felicity said. "I liked Ms. Peterson. She always let me have one of those strawberry jello cups they kept for kids who fainted."

"Wait, so who are these friends? Really. This better not just be code for going home and watching your _Pride & Prejudice _box set again," Tommy said.

"I told you, they're work friends. They're mostly from IT, although Tabitha does marketing stuff."

"Tabitha," Tommy repeated. "Okay. Now I'm certain you're making them up."

"Why is it so hard for you to believe I have other friends? I'm not that socially stunted."

"I never said you were socially stunted. But you spend all your free time with us."

"Not true," she said, pulling her coat on. "I go for drinks with them a couple times a week after work. We even grabbed dinner a week or so back."

It actually was a few days after Tommy took Oliver back in, but she decided to leave that little tidbit of information out. Things seemed to have settled between the three of them and she wasn't about to jeopardize that just to feed his ridiculous questioning.

"Anyway, I really have to go. I'm supposed to meet them at Boltini in thirty minutes."

"Boltini? You're going to _Boltini_? What-"

"I like Boltini," Felicity said, stopping whatever line of insults that were about to leave Tommy's mouth. "They have an entire drink menu of just specialty martinis. I got a Lady Gaga one last time. It came with a glow stick."

"Was it any good?" Oliver asked.

"Oh, God no. It was disgusting, but I got to keep the glow stick."

"I was going to say I didn't know if I trust these friends," Tommy said. "But now I don't know if I trust you."

She rolled her eyes. "Save the hysterics for another day, Tommy. I'll see you guys later."

* * *

She made it Boltini a few minutes after nine, and she spotted her group already assembled at a back table. She'd been debating whether or not to stop home and change before she met up with him, and she was glad she did. Her shimmery pastel pink shift dress was much more in line with what they were wearing than the leggings and sweater she'd had on earlier.

"Hi guys. Sorry I'm late," she said, slipping into the extra seat. All the IT people were there – Janet, Michael, and Regina, who went by Reggie. Tabitha was there, too, with a guy that Felicity didn't recognize.

"You didn't miss much," Tabitha assured her, sweeping her long sheet of ink black hair over her shoulder. Tabitha reminded Felicity a lot of her hacker friends back at MIT. She had the same penchant for black clothing, winged eyeliner, and whiskey. Felicity had never seen her without dark nails – never chipped – and a bright red lip. Tabitha had told her once that red lipstick was her secret weapon to success. Men had to pay attention to a lip color that bold.

"What about my Conan impression?" Michael interjected.

Tabitha swept her eyes back to Felicity and said, "I repeat. You didn't miss much."

Felicity grinned. "Did you guys order already?"

"Not yet. Service is ridiculously slow tonight," Janet complained, reaching up and adjusting her bright red headband. Headbands were her signature accessory, and Felicity had counted more than fifteen different ones during her short time at Merlyn Global Group. On some women it would have look childish, but Janet wore them well. The red one was a favorite of Janet's and it appeared often.

"I told you, to get service here all you have to do is show a little cleavage," Michael said.

Janet narrowed her eyes. "That's disgusting."

"From where I'm sitting it looks like the waiters here swing your way," Tabitha said. "So, you going to pull your pants down so we get some service?"

He sighed and retorted, "I would, but I don't want to cause mass pandemonium. All the rushing to our table would probably violate some fire code."

Tabitha smirked and then turned her attention back to Felicity.

"Anyway, Felicity, I want you to meet my friend Mark. He's the head chef over at Nobu."

"Oh, I love Nobu!" Felicity enthused. "Those goat cheese stuffed dates are a revelation."

"I could not agree more," Mark said emphatically. "Do you know I had some push back when I put that on the menu? The restaurant's backers didn't think they'd sell."

"Well, they were crazy. Obviously." She took a breath and then extended her hand. "I'm Felicity Smoak. It's very nice to meet you, Mark."

"Likewise. Definitely let me know next time you're at Nobu. I'll send out a few of our secret menu items."

Felicity's eyes lit up. "A secret menu?"

"It's like the Starbucks one. Only insiders know to order off of it."

She leaned in and conspiringly asked, "Am I one of those insiders now? Because I've always wanted to be an insider."

He laughed. "I would definitely say you are one of the insiders."

His phone buzzed and he pulled it from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. After glancing at the number flashing on the screen he pushed his set back from the table and said, "Excuse me. I need to take this."

Felicity nodded, watching with interest as he walked toward the front of the bar where it was quitter. Tabitha leaned in and said, "So, full disclosure, I brought Mark for you."

"What?"

"Well, you never mention a guy in your life, so I sort of assumed there wasn't one. There isn't, right?"

Felicity's thoughts flashed to Oliver, but she shook her head. "Nope. There isn't."

"That's what I thought," Tabitha continued. "Anyway, I thought you and Mark would hit it off."

"How do you know him?" Felicity asked.

"We actually dated," Tabitha said. "It was only for two months or something like that. We didn't work as a couple but we became really good friends. We have been ever since."

"That's really nice," Felicity said, thinking to herself how rare it was for failed relationships to end that way. Her own most recent failed relationship wasn't even cordial in its close, but there had been a lot more involved than just two months of lukewarm romance.

"So, do you like him?"

"I just met him," Felicity stammered.

"What was your first impression?" Tabitha pressed. "A first impression can say a lot about a person. Like, when I first met Bob all I could think about was how nice his abs would look with some whipped cream on them. We've been together for almost a year."

"Your first thought was how his abs would look with whipped cream?" Felicity asked in disbelief.

Tabitha shrugged and added, "I was right, by the way."

"I guess, um, that I think he seems very nice. And that I like his restaurant."

"Well, it's a start," Tabitha said succinctly. She spotted Mark returning to the table and she added, "By the way, his first impression of you was that you're one of the most beautiful women he's ever seen."

Felicity was dumbfounded, and before she could respond Mark had sat down at the table again, Tabitha calmly sipping at her water.

* * *

Later that night – after a thin mint martini that absolutely lived up to its namesake – Felicity stood with Mark out on the street, trying unsuccessfully to hail a cab.

"Why is it that when you don't need a cab they are everywhere, but the moment you do there isn't one in sight?" Felicity asked, craning her neck to see if she spotted one of the ubiquitous yellow vehicles coming toward them. No such luck.

"Maybe it's something like a watched pot never boils?"

She grinned up at him. "That's a very appropriate analogy for a chef."

"I thought so."

She turned her attention back to the street, but thinking of what he said she angled her face up to him again, thinking maybe he was on to something.

"I had a really nice time tonight," he said.

"Me too. We're a fun group."

"You are," he agreed, nodding. "But I meant more my time with you. I'm glad Tabitha convinced me to come out."

"You weren't going to?"

"My Saturday nights are usually filled with _Chopped _reruns."

"That's a solid Saturday night binging show," she said in complete seriousness.

He laughed. "But she said she had a friend that she thought I should meet. And as much as it pains me to say this, she was right."

Felicity smirked. "I promise not to tell her."

"I think her finding out is unavoidable," he said. "I'd like to see you sometime. If that's alright with you."

She grinned, tucking her chin into her chest for a moment before asking, "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, being a chef and all, I thought I could cook for you."

She blinked up at him. "Like, at your restaurant?"

He shrugged. "If you wanted. Or I could cook for you at my apartment. My appliances aren't quite as up to date as Nobu's, but they still get the job done."

"What would you make?" she asked.

"No, I can't tell you that," he said, shaking his head. "A chef never reveals his menu early."

She laughed. "Dinner sounds wonderful. Here, let me give you my number."

While they were exchanging numbers a cab rolled up beside them. She slipped her phone back into her purse and murmured, "I think you were right about that watched pot thing."

He grinned, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Goodnight, Felicity."

"Goodnight, Mark."

* * *

She went back to Oliver and Tommy's apartment that night, realizing that she'd left her phone charger there for what felt like the eightieth time, and was surprised to find Oliver there alone. When she asked where Tommy was he retorted, "Duty called."

Felicity wrinkled her nose. "That's disgusting. Next time I ask, please just say he's out running errands or something."

"It's almost midnight. I'm pretty sure you still would have put two and two together."

"No, my mind actively blocks anything even hinting toward Tommy's sex life. I would have happily envisioned him going sock shopping or something."

"Why sock shopping?"

"I don't know. I like the idea of it. You know, someone going and actually buying matching socks for things. It seems so quaint."

Oliver smirked. "So, how was your night out with friends?"

"It was a lot of fun. I like you and Tommy, but sometimes it's nice to be around people who aren't…well…you and Tommy."

"Fair enough."

"Yeah, so, it was good." She thought of Mark and her smile softened. "It was really good."

"_Really _good, huh?"

She caught his tone and glanced toward him, nodding a bit. "Yeah, really good. I…um…met someone, actually."

"You did?" he asked.

"Is this weird to talk about?" she asked tentatively. "Because it feels sort of weird."

"No," he said immediately. "It's not weird at all."

It was a little weird. Both of them knew that. But it seemed like Oliver was hell bent on ignoring that, and Felicity wasn't about to fight him.

"Okay. Well. His name is Mark. He's the head chef over at Nobu. You know, the place on Maple?"

"That place is really good," Oliver said, nodding in recognition. "I got these date things there once. They were the best."

She smiled a bit and said, "The goat cheese stuffed dates."

"Yes! Those…they were great."

"They were," she agreed softly. "Anyway, yeah. My friend Tabitha introduced us. We're having dinner sometime this week. Well, I should say he's cooking me dinner sometime this week. Why go out when you have your own chef, you know? Not that he's _mine_. Not yet, at least. I mean, I don't know if I even _want _him to be mine. We just met, that would be…crazy."

"I'm happy for you," Oliver said after a moment.

"You are?" she asked immediately.

"Yeah. You deserve someone good. This guy sounds like he could be that. I mean, you look happy. You look excited."

"I am," Felicity admitted.

"Then I'm happy for you." He reached beside him on the counter and picked up her phone charger, holding it out for her. "Do you need a ride back home?"

"No, my cab's waiting outside," she said, taking the charger from him. Her hand burned from where his fingers brush hers, but she ignored it.

"Have a safe trip home."

She nodded and then left the apartment, telling herself that the large part of her that wanted to stay was wrong.

**A/N: A little competition is now in the Olicity mix. Don't worry - Olicity will happen - I'm just having some fun in the mean time. Let me know how you liked this!**


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